


Rosie Lea (have a cuppa tea)

by OrdinaryRealities



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A fair amount of working through the trauma of canon, Background Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson/Luna Lovegood, Coffee Shop AU-ish, Ensemble Cast, Harry is stubborn, Harry's Saving People Thing, M/M, Muggle OC's, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23066065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrdinaryRealities/pseuds/OrdinaryRealities
Summary: After the war Harry buys Florian Fortescue's ice cream parlor and opens a tea shop. Because of this he somehow ends up trying to rescue Slytherin's reputation and accidentally finds himself friends with half of Slytherin. He doesn't understand how it happened.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson & Harry Potter
Comments: 41
Kudos: 451





	Rosie Lea (have a cuppa tea)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't understand how this happened. I was like, "Coffee Shop AU's are great, but they wouldn't work for every universe. Can you imagine Harry Potter in a Coffee Shop AU?" And instead of going out and reading the hundreds I'm sure if not thousands of great Coffee Shop AU's out there that actually fit the genre this popped into my head. It was supposed to be a couple thousand words. It was not supposed to be this sprawling mess. 
> 
> As always, if I've accidentally said anything racist/sexist/ableist/transphobic/etc please let me know. I almost abandoned this after JKR pulled aside what little veil she had over her TERF-yness, but I'm a chronic completionist, so I didn't. But I definitely don't want to add anything to this fandom that's even a little bit as toxic as the creator, so. Please let me know if I did so I can do better.

It was Ron who suggested it, not long after he’d decided to help George at the store for now and let the auror department wait. 

“I know you hate going out in Diagon Alley,”

“So you think I should get a job there where people can gawk at me every day?” Harry looked at Hermione for support. To his mild panic, she looked thoughtful. 

“Familiarity breeds contempt?”

Ron shrugged, modest. “I dunno, I just thought. Harry’s been in our world for seven years and look at the difference in the way McGonagall treats him and the way Tom at the Leaky Cauldron does.”

Hermione glanced at him apologetically. “It’s an idea. I know you don’t like being stuck under the cloak.”

“But no one in their right mind would hire me. I don’t have any experience. And how would I know that anyone who did hire me wasn’t hiring The-Boy-Who-Lived?”

“I heard Florean Fortescue’s ice cream shop is up for sale. If you bought the place you wouldn’t have to worry about that, at least.”

Harry hesitated. “I don’t know that I could live up to Fortescue’s. I don’t know anything about ice cream.” His chest caught for a long moment, thinking of the personable man offering out free ice cream and help on his history essay. 

“You could hire someone who knows about-”

“Not ice cream,” Harry decided. “But I could do… I dunno, sandwiches or drinks, or… I guess the Leaky Cauldron has most of that under control.”

“You know,” Hermione’s head tilted thoughtfully, “there’s really nowhere in Diagon Alley to go for tea or coffee.”

Harry was grateful for the Weasleys' help. He really was. He certainly never would have gotten this far without them. All the same, there was something comforting, the day before the opening and the crowds, the shoving mob pushing in to gawk, about sitting alone in the darkened store while Ginny and Ron ran over for lunch with George.

The debris had been cleared, the ice cream counter replaced, mugs and tables organized, and everyone from Hermione to Neville Longbottom had found a way to be helpful.

Hermione, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley had helped him to find and learn the charms he would need for warming, cleaning, cooling, and stirring. Mrs. Weasley had volunteered to come help him for the first week or so, until the crowds (if Ron was right) turned manageable. (Harry couldn’t think about what would happen if Ron was wrong.) 

Bill and George had spent three weekends helping Harry set up every magical protection they could think of, with Percy helping to brainstorm spells to use. (Harry suspected that Percy’s help was due to overhearing Charlie’s impassioned plea that even if Harry could look after himself, allowing his brothers to do this could help protect his defenseless customers.) 

Luna had started running an ad for the shop before she even discussed it with him and wouldn’t hear of payment. (“Harry,” she had said, sounding a little less airy than usual, “the way I see it, my family owes you a lifetime of free ads at the very least.”) Neville had carefully started low-maintenance raised beds to line the patio of outdoor seating. Harry had shown up one day to find him sitting on the ground, a pile of dirt to one side and a tray of seedlings on the other.

Alone in the shop now, Harry ducked behind the counter and fidgeted through several cabinets, checking the clean mugs, the tea bags and coffee beans, the reusable tea balls neatly aligned in their drawer. (Harry had nearly thrown a fit when Hermione had insisted on loose leaf tea. It had been Ginny, still stilted around Harry after their decision not to try a relationship again, who had come up with the solution. “It’s still loose leaf, but no one can try to read any tea leaves this way.”) The dough for sandwich bread and pastries was resting in the far cabinets. Meats and vegetables were under stasis charms in the cupboard next to the sink. Harry clattered back and forth along the wall three times before he made himself turn away. 

Standing outside, a hand just raising to tap at the glass, were Seamus and Dean. Harry grinned. When he got there he stood a moment in the open door, eyes on Dean’s t-shirt hanging off of stick-thin arms and scanning Seamus for any hint of the injuries that had looked so shockingly disfiguring so recently (was aware of the same friendly scrutiny aimed back at him). It was Seamus who broke the silence. 

“We heard you weren’t coming back to Hogwarts.”

Try as he might, Harry could hear none of the rebuke he had found in Neville’s or Ginny’s initial reactions. “Come in.” He stepped out of the way. “Must seem absurd, me not going back. I wasn’t even there for…” He trailed off with an awkward gesture towards Seamus’s face as he reached the counter. “Tea?”

Seamus shook his head, face uncharacteristically serious. “We all work through our own trauma in our own ways.”

Feeling unprepared to respond to that or the whispered exchange that followed (“Your therapist?” “Professor Lupin”) Harry turned to the cabinet and pulled out a trio of mugs. 

“Seriously, have some tea. I can make sandwiches or something too.”

Dean smiled generously at him. “We just had lunch, but we could take some tea.”

Harry could already hear the conversation he was going to have later that night. He would open the subject. “I never knew Seamus had a therapist. Hell, I never even knew there were wizarding therapists!”

Ron would respond with an exclamation. “Blimey, Harry, of course we have wizarding therapists. What would we do without them? You should have heard mum when George refused to see one…”

Hermione would be knowledgeable. “What did you think Elgin the ineluctable was famous for, Harry?”

Dean offered Harry a box as they sipped their tea. “We were walking by the other day and saw that you still didn’t have a sign.”

Dean’s gaze was fixed on his fidgeting hands. Harry followed it in time to see Seamus covering Dean’s hands with one of his own. He felt like he ought to say something, to show that, unlike uncle Vernon, Harry didn’t care who you loved, but all he could come up with was a general dull shock. He settled for giving Seamus a firm nod when their eyes met and falling back on his original gratitude. 

“I put it off too long. I couldn’t think of anything to call it, and none of us knew how to make a sign anyway… Thank you.” He swallowed. “Is there any- Can I pay you? For it?”

Dean immediately started denying (“That’s not why we did this, Harry,”) and Harry tried to keep his sigh from slipping out. 

Seamus spoke over Dean, his eyes on Harry’s face. “You could advertise that Dean did your sign.” Harry glanced for Dean’s reaction. The taller boy nodded.

“I can do that. Do you have business cards or a flyer or something?”

Harry found himself smiling after them when they went. Ron and Hermione returned as Harry was settling the stack of business cards next to the quibbler on the far side of the register. Dean had promised to either get business cards out of Neville or make him some. 

“Congratulations, Mate,” Ron clapped him on the shoulder. Harry set his jaw and didn’t jump. “That sign looks professional. I didn’t realize you’d picked a name.”

Harry turned with a grin. “Well don’t look at me. Dean and Seamus came by.”

The conversation about therapy went the other way. 

“Therapist? It sounds like you’re trying to hack up a hairball.”

“Seamus is a half-blood, isn’t he? I wonder how much therapy helps if you have to lie about your whole world.”

“It’s like a healer for your mind, Ron. Like, in the muggle world George might get one to help him over Fred.” 

“When you say…”

“Harry would have one for everything from the Dursleys on through Voldemort.” They were meandering down the mostly deserted Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron and muggle London through the dusk and gloom.

“Like, erasing memories?” Ron looked caught somewhere between horror and fury. 

Harry shook his head. “Muggles don’t have memory charms. It’s more like, learning to live with yourself.”

A voice spoke out of the dark ahead of them, curious rather than judgmental. “Is that difficult for you, Potter?”

Harry’s jaw set anyway. “So many people died.”

“We all die sooner or later. And how many more survived?” A thin, weedy man grew out of the dark to join his nasally voice, eyes fixed on Harry’s face even as he tilted dangerously. Nott looked sloshed. One foot lifted for another tottering step forward and Harry reached, unthinking, to catch his arm. 

Blaise Zabini faded in out of the dark to prop him up before Harry reached him. “Now, Theo, no poking Potter. There are cleaner ways than that.”

Harry looked at the pair of them, annoyed. “Cleaner ways for what?”

Zabini gave him a look.

Harry blushed but returned the gaze. “Piss me off enough and I might yell at you, Zabini, because I’m not good at controlling my temper, but I can’t send you to Azkaban. Won’t,” he corrected, because he wasn’t sure how much sway he had with Kingsley and was uncomfortably aware that most of the Wizengamot wouldn’t even question him right now. “I’ll certainly use my wand in self-defense, but I won’t kill- Hell, I didn’t even send a killing curse at Voldemort.”

Both Slytherins flinched, but Zabini kept going. “So Draco is special?” 

Nott elbowed his housemate. “I thought there were cleaner ways.”

“You’re drunk.” Zabini didn’t bother even attempting a whisper.

Harry blanched. “I.” His gaze dropped. He knew he’d gone bright red. “I didn’t know what that spell would do. I panicked. I know that wouldn’t mean much to Malfoy, but I learned my lesson. I would never do that again.”

“You saved his life too.” 

Harry jerked around to face Millicent Bulstrode, who smirked. 

“Tracy Davis said she had it from Narcissa, who heard it from him.”

Harry shrugged, heart racing as he tried to glance unobtrusively to see if there were any more of them. “They both saved my life, Malfoy and his mum. Even if they did support Voldemort too.”

Nott was focusing on him with some difficulty. “You’ll never make Minister of Magic with that sort of appreciation of shades of grey.”

“I don’t want to be Minister of Magic. Who would tell me when I was out of line?” Ron and Hermione always would, of course, but Harry didn’t have the best track record of listening to them, and he was starting to recognize that sometimes that judgment call was the wrong one to make.

Harry couldn’t shake the feeling, long after all three Slytherins had faded away into Diagon Alley, as he and Ron and Hermione went their separate ways, that Zabini and Bulstrode had discovered something about him that he might not have meant to show. 

Midway through the third week, Mrs. Weasley had finally started staying home on slower days. “I’ll still come and help you on the weekends for a bit dear, but you should be alright during the week.” Harry resented Ron, just a touch, for being so right about this. He had walked down to Eeylops Owl Emporium the day before and no more than half a dozen people had visibly stared. Not one had tried to shake his hand or tell him how much he had done for them.

At mid-morning, the café empty, Harry busied himself replenishing the sandwiches, thinking about maybe reading a book. (He couldn’t quite shake the idea that living up to Fortescue was something he had to do, something that involved not just a welcoming business but also being intimately familiar with his schoolwork; not just knowing it but knowing what made it interesting and understandable too. That was going to involve a lot of reading.) The door chimed as he sliced sandwich meat. 

“Be with you in a minute!” 

“Potter?”

He put down the knife and turned slowly to find a horrified Pansy Parkinson frozen in front of his counter. For a moment, Harry couldn’t hear past the echo of her trying to turn him over to Voldemort. Then his eyes fixed on her face. She looked nearly as terrified now as she had then. 

He took a breath. “Coffee? Tea? I promise I won’t poison it.” And he pulled a face.

The look Parkinson awarded him in return was arch. “I would expect nothing less from you, Potter. Too afraid there wouldn’t be any consequences?”

Harry flinched and watched her mirror the motion. He could blow up later. It wasn’t like she was wrong. This Slytherin had paid more attention to him at school. “Yeah, you caught me.” He spread his hands.

“Look,” her voice was light, but her gaze was glued to her nails. “I’m sorry, about. I was scared, but that’s no excuse. I-”

Harry shrugged, equally awkward. “Don’t worry about it. I think we all had moments we weren’t proud of.”

Her gaze snapped up. “Even you? Please.”

Harry thought of Godric’s Hollow and blushed. “Well I’m not going to tell you about it.”

She snorted, but didn’t relax. 

He was sure there must be something he could be saying to cut the tension. “Look, if I wasn’t me, you came in here for something, right?”

She cocked her head, thoughtful. “If you weren’t you?” Something about her face went lopsided. “I came in to hide from the crowds.” 

“Alright.” Harry waved a hand across the chairs. “I’m here if you want something, but hide as long as you like.” He turned back to the sandwiches and picked back up the knife. After a moment he heard her walk across the floor and a chair scrape out.

It was close to an hour later that Harry gave up on his potions textbook, shutting it with a huff. He’d almost forgotten about Parkinson until she laughed. He jumped, then blushed.

“Going back to Hogwarts, then?”

“No.” he looked up to see her gaze planted on the table. 

“So why are you studying?”

Harry leaned his elbows on the counter, struck by a sudden idea. “You’re a pureblood, Parkinson.”

“No, Potter. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but no. Nothing good can come from that thoughtful tone, not when it’s you and not when I’m a Slytherin.” Her tone was lacking any of the mockery or spite it would have held a year ago.

Harry glanced down at the counter but kept pushing (himself? Her?) anyway. “You must know- There must be the interesting version of these things somewhere.”

“Looking for ‘Babbity Rabbity,’ are we, Potter?” 

Harry reminded himself that she couldn’t know the weight that Beedle the Bard held for him. “No, I just. Florean Fortescue knew all these pieces that Binns and Bathilda Bagshot left out. History made sense when he put it together for you.” He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with Parkinson looking at him that way. There was the uncomfortable feeling, again, that he had somehow given himself away.

“I can look through our library, but you’re better off asking – Do you want history specifically? Or potions? The Notts have an excellent library on arithmancy and runes, and Theo’s added a lot on charms theory and several excellent books on potions. Blaise has access to an excellent library on the history of magical creature relations. If you asked him nicely he might introduce you to Rolf.”

Harry let some of his disbelief show. “If I ask nicely? You don’t think he might be more interested in doing you a favor than me?”

“Oh, don’t worry. He swings both ways, Potter.” She smirked.

Harry felt his face heat up. “That wasn’t what I meant! I just meant, housemates! You’re his friend.”

Her look now was more honest and assessing, less arch. “You’ve impressed him, somehow. Him and Bulstrode.” She rolled her eyes. “They’ve been going on about you.”

Harry blinked. “Then they’ve got very low standards.”

She snorted and stood. “I’ll see what I can find for you. I should let you get on with your day.” He watched her shoulders square and her spine straighten as she turned to face the door. “I have to stop in at Eeylops before they close anyway.”

Harry opened his mouth before he’d thought it through. “I close in a half an hour. If you don’t mind being seen in public with me, I need to get an owl.”

He squashed the moment of choking panic at the idea of replacing Hedwig. He thought he’d been successful, but the next thing he heard was Parkinson, much closer. “Breathe in… and out. That’s right, nice and slow. You didn’t have to offer to walk me if the thought of bad publicity was enough to give you a panic attack. You chivalrous Gryffindor idiot. Breathe.”

“Sorry,” Harry gasped a breath. “I’m fine.” And then, “It’s not you.”

“It’s OK, Potter, I can handle it.”

“No,” he met her gaze, “It’s the need for an owl,” he concentrated on matching her breathing as she narrated it for him.

“In two three four, out two three four.” 

She waited until he was breathing normally to sit back on her heels and continue the conversation. “I’m sorry about your owl. That’s always tough and it’s such rotten timing, right after the war’s over.” She frowned. “She didn’t even seem that old. How- Did the muggles buy her for you as a kid?”

The bell dinged. “Harry?” It was Ginny’s voice, and he struggled up from where he had leaned or been leaned against the cabinets. 

“I’m here.” She came around the corner of the counter as he swayed drunkenly to his feet. 

Parkinson smiled ruefully at the wand Ginny held in her face raising her empty hands mockingly.

Harry spoke before either of them could make the situation worse. “Ginny, I had another attack. She didn’t have to help.” He stepped between Ginny’s wand and the other woman and offered her a hand. “How’d you learn to do that, Parkinson?”

She offered a half-shrug as she rose, her eyes on Ginny’s face. “Practice. Are you going to curse me or not Weasley? Only, I have things to get on with today.”

Harry sighed, remembering. “No one’s cursing anyone. I’ve got wards up on the shop.” He frowned. “Why don’t they have them at Hogwarts?”

“None of us ever died.” Parkinson didn’t seem as bothered as Harry was by the thought of Draco laying out in a pool of his own blood on the bathroom floor. 

“Don’t tell him…” Ginny looked at her hands as they both turned to her. 

“Don’t tell me what?” Harry swallowed his fury.

Ginny’s gaze flicked up to his. “You need these wards, Harry.”

“Of course he does.” Parkinson rolled her eyes. “Are you trying to argue with that level of common sense, Potter? I really don’t know what- what Zabini and Bulstrode think they saw in you.”

Harry rolled his eyes right back. “No, I get it. I know that people need to be protected if I’m around them. Danger follows me everywhere. What I don’t know, and would like to, is whatever Ginny is keeping from me.” He gritted his teeth to stop himself from saying anything else.

“I… It’s just. Look, Harry,”

Parkinson glanced at her and then turned to Harry. “She’s probably not telling you that they don’t have this sort of ward up in the school because people will start finding ways around them if they get used too often.”

“Do you have any idea how hard we had to work to get him to accept these protections?”

Harry shrugged. “So? Then we’ll find new wards to put up. If they can’t use wards to protect little kids, who are they going to use the wards to protect?”

Ginny and Parkinson both blinked at him and he shrugged, uncomfortable. 

“Ginny, would you mind closing up? Parkinson and I are going to run over to Eeylops before they close. See about,” His voice dropped to a whisper involuntarily, “a new owl.”

Ginny gave his arm a friendly punch. “Go on,” and as he shook it out, “but Parkinson, if anything happens to Harry, we’ll all know who led him into a trap.”

Harry yanked the door open and held it for Parkinson, his jaw set.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I wasn’t planning to test that.” She led the way down the street, chin high. “Don’t think I’m not grateful, Potter, but I have this funny feeling you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Harry kept his eyes on the ground just ahead of his feet. “I doubt that. We’re not- That is- We broke up. I didn’t expect her to wait for me.” He left out the part where they both had hoped, stumbled around trying to fit their broken pieces back together even after it became clear that they couldn’t. 

“Alright. Don’t trip yourself.” They walked together in silence for a moment. “I’m sorry, Potter.”

Harry shrugged. “It hasn’t exactly been a priority.”

He could feel Parkinson’s speculative gaze on him for the rest of the walk.

He held the door for her, saw the employee recognize her and then turn away. 

Harry scowled and halted just inside the door. “We could go to the Magical Menagerie.” He watched the employee turn back around and realize that Harry Potter had followed her in. “What were you here for? I was going to get an owl, and, well, the whole set-up really, but I’m sure they’ll have something there.” He made no effort to keep his voice down and watched Parkinson’s face. She smirked and leaned in.

“Spite, Potter? What sort of Gryffindor are you? I thought you lot were supposed to be chivalrous.” Before he could sort out his anger into words she spoke out loud. “Just some owl treats. I figured I’d get some for Draco and Theo as well. They haven’t been getting out much lately.” She turned and marched through the store so that Harry had no choice but to follow. The employee’s behavior (sulky at best towards Parkinson, simpering towards Harry) was enough to hold Harry up by the shoulders and allow him to ignore the churning in his stomach as Parkinson helped him pick out owl, stand, treats, and cage. She pointed out a dragonhide shoulder pad designed to allow his owl to sit on his shoulder and recommended that he see Madam Malkin about a custom version. He watched her checking price tags before gathering up a trio of small bags of owl treats. They weren’t the brand she had recommended to him.

The boy behind the counter was a good-looking blond with a pierced lip and a moving dragon tattoo. Harry motioned to Parkinson, who handed up her purchases. The boy (near their age, really, not very much older) glanced at the price tags and then stared Parkinson down. “Nine galleons.” 

“It says three sickles apiece.” Parkinson looked sick. 

“Must be priced wrong.” The boy didn’t even glance at the tags again. 

Her voice barely wobbled as she turned to Harry. “Go ahead. I didn’t bring enough cash with me.” The smile stretched across her face was ghastly. 

“We should go somewhere else.” Harry turned towards the door again, but Parkinson stood herself in front of him. Her voice was practically a whisper. It dropped unsteadily on the last word. “Please don’t make a scene. Potter.”

Harry took a breath and nodded. He handed up his parcels to the boy behind the counter one by one. The final one was the owl treats, and he hesitated. “How much are these?”

The price on their bag was correct, somehow. 

“I’ll take another three of these large bags if you have them.” The other employee added the extra bags to the pile and began packing them all together.

“Nine galleons,” The boy told him. Up close he had pimples.

Harry turned to the other employee as he handed over his coins. “Oh, sorry, would you put those three bags in a different parcel? Thanks.” His voice was flat. 

The boy paused handing the bags over. “I just wanted to say thank you, Harry Potter.”

Fawning always made Harry uncomfortable but he’d had several weeks of practice recently. “Well, in all fairness he did try to kill me first.”

Parkinson’s snort next to him helped him to smile over the boy’s inane laughter. “To think he believes you’re joking, Potter.”

He claimed his parcels and turned to Parkinson. “I hoped you might accept these, as souvenirs of an interesting afternoon.” Ron had given him seven years of practice giving this sort of gift, even if Ron had never required the diction he was learning to put on for a certain class of pureblood. 

Parkinson assessed him. “That’s… unbelievably politic of you, Potter.”

Harry nearly crossed his arms before processing the way that would swing the bag away from Parkinson. He shrugged instead, with effort. If his next words were obviously colored by too many conversations as a fifth wheel with Hermione, Luna, Ron, and Ginny, well. At least he’d had the opportunity to consider them. “The war is over. If we don’t change, we’ll just have to keep fighting it until it starts back up again.” He looked her in the eye. “I will if I have to, but I’m tired. I’d rather try something different.”

The door jingled as someone else entered. She held his gaze and took the bag. Her voice was light. “Well then. I know a lot of owls who will appreciate this. Thank you, Potter.”

Harry hated apparating. He had far too many parcels to fly or floo, but Apparition never failed to remind him of those long months on the run. When he appeared at home, parcels in hand, and didn’t spend twenty minutes fighting off another panic attack, it felt like a triumph. 

Harry hadn’t been sure if he was relieved or offended when Andromeda Tonks invited him to live with her and Teddy. Grimmauld Place wasn’t the place to start healing. He’d twice gotten trapped by Sirius’s house wandering around in the middle of the night, convinced that he’d heard an intruder and once he’d surprised himself by bursting into tears halfway through pulling the curtains across Mrs. Black, ambushed by a memory of Sirius and Professor Lupin doing the same. He would be in the kitchen and forget that Ron and Hermione were safe - not on the run - even though they weren't there. All the same, his first fear was that Andromeda was looking for someone to mother. Even if she hadn’t looked so much like Bellatrix it would have been impossible. The only reason Mrs. Weasley got that privilege was because he’d never lived with her for more than a couple of months at a time. 

But instead, he and Andromeda had settled into something like flatmates, waving as they went in and out and sharing the occasional meal. Teddy was responsible for more interactions between them than the fact that they lived together. It was somehow comfortable.

Harry wandered downstairs, yet another muggle parenting book in his hand (Mrs. Weasley and Hermione between them must have supplied him with a copy of every parenting book in the world, but raising Teddy wasn’t something Harry wanted to risk getting wrong) and found Andromeda clattering around the kitchen making some tea.

“Sit. Take a turn getting your tea from someone else.” 

Harry had given up arguing this point. He sat. “Can I- Can I ask you something?”

Andromeda set his tea in front of him and sat down across the table. “You may try.”

“I.. Pansy Parkinson talked me out of an attack today.” He paused, remembered, “Oh, and I finally got a new owl,” and plunged ahead. “And I had a… a couple of other unexpected run-ins with classmates recently.” He tilted his cup to look at the tea as he organized his question. “It occurred to me that all of my opinions about Slytherin are really just opinions about Malfoy and Snape. And I was wrong about Snape.” He paused. “You were a Slytherin.” He ran a finger along the rim of his cup and changed topics. “Ron said wizards don’t have therapy. How- how could Parkinson have known what to do?” And another question popped into his head. “I know what Uncle Vernon would have said about two men pairing off, but I- What does the wizarding world say about it? I don’t want to accidentally out a friend.”

Andromeda’s shuttered face had relaxed to wary and almost amused. “Albus Dumbledore was commonly suspected to be interested in men. One of the reasons I wasn’t… thrilled with my daughter chasing Remus Lupin is that he was with her cousin,” she looked him in the eye, “Sirius from their late teens through most of the first war.” It was her turn now to stare into her cup. “I never asked if they made up after Sirius got out. It may have been too much water under the bridge by then.” She looked back up. “It’s no more taboo than a pureblood shacking up with a muggleborn. At least in the crowd where the latter is taboo.” 

Harry nodded. 

She stabbed her wand at the wall and it flickered out for a moment into a view of Teddy, drowsing and gurgling to himself. “Teddy’s napping.” She sipped her tea. “It may be tempting to assume that Miss Parkinson learned about dealing with panic attacks for some nefarious purpose but.” She stopped, though it hadn’t sounded like the end of a sentence. “I don’t know how much Sirius told you about growing up in our family. Even before the war I had dormmates who suffered from flashbacks. The mental scars Sirius went to school with... After- Your friend,” she made a face like she knew exactly how wrong that word was and continued without replacing it. “could have grown up learning how to talk down her father or her mother or a more distant relative. Friends at school. It seems equally plausible to me that she has spent her whole life making up a trial and error version of a muggle science or that she, or an aunt, or her father – someone she’s close to – might have slipped out to the muggle world to pick up a book or two. They could even have gone to therapy and lied about the world or used a memory charm after.” 

Harry sipped his tea to give himself something to do with his hands. 

“What was your other question?” Andromeda’s smile, Harry thought, was one of the braver things he had seen. 

“I… Slytherin?” He felt like the worst kind of coward. Teddy cooed from the next room over and Harry dropped his cup and fled. He came back armed. The weight of Teddy, mumbling and half-asleep on his shoulder was comforting. 

Andromeda picked back up as if he’d never left, her gaze glued to the liquid in her cup. “I can only speak for myself about Slytherin. Sirius was always very vocal about the idea that I would have been sorted elsewhere if I had managed to throw off my conditioning before the sorting ceremony.”

“You disagree.”

She shrugged. “I think it’s a moot point. I’m not the only person who did my growing up after the age of eleven. Slytherin is ambitious. There are all sorts of things to be ambitious about. It isn’t always megalomania, and Lucius Malfoy’s interest in being a toady is not the norm.” She pulled a face and Harry laughed. “Tell me about Gryffindor. Were all your classmates like you?” Harry blushed. “Every one of you interchangeably good?”

Harry was in the middle of a fast and mindless round of drink-making when the noise of the crowd changed. He handed over a cocoa and sandwich and glanced towards the center of the muttering. Parkinson was standing just inside the door. Her eyes were on the floor and there was a stack of books in her arms. Harry took a breath. There was an easy way to cut across this tension. Harry wasn’t sure that he was ready for it, but he didn’t want to worry about a brawl in his shop. 

“Pansy, you came back!”

Her shoulders came up as she answered. “You said you wanted books.” He watched her calculate. Slytherins weren’t half as difficult to read as they thought they were. 

“Come up,” he waved her forward. “Do you mind sitting for a minute while I finish this line? I can supply a drink. Sandwich? On the house.”

She sat at the table closest to the register. “No, thank you, Harry. I can wait.” She flapped a hand. “Go take care of your fans.” 

Harry bit back a grin as he turned back to the drinks. 

The final customers in line were a muggle family. From all the parcels, he suspected a first year Hogwarts student. 

Harry handed over the drinks and leaned over to help the parents count the change. “And then there are twenty-nine knuts to a sickle, so I should have given you back fifteen knuts. The little bronze ones, see.” He paused. “Do you think it would be helpful for me to have prices in muggle currency too? I do go out to the muggle world sometimes, and even if I didn’t I could just exchange it at the bank.”

The taller woman slid her arm around the shorter one’s shoulders as she sighed again, throwing her hands in the air. 

“It would help us today, but this… impromptu lesson you’ve given us in wizarding currency? That will help us for the next seven years, at least.” 

Harry blinked and beamed. 

The shorter woman glanced around for their son. “Where… Oh, Julian, don’t bother her. She’s trying to read. I’m so sorry, dear.”

Parkinson smiled. “No worries,” the smile was only slightly strained, “Julian just wanted to ask about his potions ingredients.” Harry processed the paper packets laid out in front of her. “You’ll be using this one in potions a lot. It’s an emulsifier, which means it stabilizes the potion. Dead useful if your potion suddenly starts boiling when it shouldn’t. It’s worth knowing what the ingredients are good for before you even go in.” She looked at him. “Have you been to Flourish and Blotts yet?”

The taller woman answered for him. “That’s the last place on our list. As soon as we’ve eaten lunch here.”

Pansy nodded. “If you’d like I can give you a couple of titles to look for that talk about the ingredients. My house had copies floating around for us firsties to give us a little edge, but I don’t think the other houses did, and I don’t know… That potions master is gone now. He was our head of house, which is why we had access to his books.”

“I don’t suppose,” the shorter woman frowned and looked at Harry and Pansy. “I’m used to the idea of houses – we had them in school ourselves – but,” she exchanged a glance with her partner, “they seem a bit more… volatile, here.”

Her partner nodded. “I had to pull Susie out of the way – someone announced they wanted to be in slithering and there was nearly a riot. All they would tell me was that it was a house hazing thing.”

“It’s Slytherin,” Pansy was making eye contact with the son, “And you don’t want to be in that house, Julian. The hat should listen if you ask it for another even if it wants to put you there.”

Harry frowned at her. “Why, because he’s a muggleborn?” He had hoped they were moving beyond that. 

Pansy rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, Harry. He’s a muggleborn and it’s not fair to him to throw him into a war zone. Slytherin will be doing damage control for decades.”

Harry crossed his arms. “It certainly will, if you warn all the muggleborns out.” He turned to Julian. “The hat almost put me in Slytherin, you know.” Some small petty part of him delighted in the shock on Parkinson’s face. “I asked it not to, because all I had heard about Slytherin was that the man who introduced me to the wizarding world didn’t like it, and there was a boy who reminded me of a cousin I didn’t like who had just been sorted into it.” He resolutely didn’t look at Parkinson. “It made my life easier at Hogwarts, but if I had allowed the sorting hat to put me in Slytherin, people who want to be sorted there might not be getting pummeled on the streets today. The sorting hat knows what it’s doing,” he swallowed, “And your mum is right, do your research first-”

“She’s not my mum.” 

Harry blinked at him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize- I thought only immediate family were told about the wizarding world.”

“This is my aunt Susie and my aunt Bettina. My parents died last fall.” Harry swallowed.

Parkinson looked at the table. “Was it us that did it? Witches and wizards, I mean?”

Julian shrugged, but his aunt Bettina nodded at her over his shoulder. 

“That’s why there’s the anti-Slytherin feeling.” Parkinson’s voice was sharp. “There was a- A very bad wizard, and he was a Slytherin, and it was his friends and their children who followed him, so a lot of his followers were Slytherins.”

Harry leaned on the counter. “To tell you the truth, though,” his tone was confiding. He liked these aunts. Even the tall skinny one seemed nothing like aunt Petunia. “It’s just a house. My two best friends happened to be Gryffindors like me, but my ex-girlfriend’s best friend in school was a Ravenclaw. My mate is engaged to a Hufflepuff.”

Julian cocked his head. “And Slytherin?”

Harry swallowed. “My mum’s best mate in school was a Slytherin, and he saved the whole war.”

Parkinson snorted. “And was a complete arse to nearly everyone, including you and the memory of your mum, while doing it. Don’t romanticize Snape, he’d hate it.”

Harry found himself smiling again. “What better revenge for the way he treated me and Neville at school?”

Susie studied him. “Why not just point to the two of you as an example of inter-house friendship with Slytherin?”

“It’s new,” Harry glanced at Parkinson. “I think we’re still trying it out.”

The bell dinged and a very familiar voice drawled out, “Sorry we’re late, Pansy dear. Zabini insisted on stopping for a new quill.”

Harry stiffened. “Like that.” He turned and plastered on his best customer service smile. “Hello Malfoy. Drinks? Sandwich? Scone? He glanced over the rest of Malfoy’s cronies. “Bulstrode? Nott, Zabini?”

Zabini’s smile curled catlike about his mouth. “What would you recommend, Potter? Any arsenic tea on your menu?”

Harry was pleased to note the muggles relocating to a table on the other side of Parkinson. “Sorry, Zabini, but I have a policy against stocking any beverages that require me to lug your body out of the store myself.” He knew that pushing the smile further just flattened it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I do have a lovely water, if you’re looking for something tasteless.”

Nott laughed. “And you tell me not to bait Potter.” He turned to Harry. “Could I get a black coffee? And,” he paused, “What’s your cheapest sandwich?”

Harry’s stomach clenched at the reminder of the way other shopkeepers were treating them. These people’s parents deserved to have their assets frozen, but he was pretty sure Malfoy had been the only one of his classmates who actually signed up. 

“Money is no object,” Zabini threw out a hand. “It’s all on me today. Go on, Pansy, grab something for yourself too, love.”

Harry took a breath. “Alright. What does everybody want?” He looked at Nott. 

Nott looked at him and raised his eyebrows. Harry sighed. “Look, Nott, tell me what sandwich you want and how much you want to pay for it. Please.” He’d just broken every rule he’d ever made for himself about how to not hurt Ron’s feelings. “If you think about it, you’re just getting one over on me?”

Nott gave him a crooked smile. “I’d like to pay nothing for your fancy frappe thingy and two roast beef sandwiches.”

Harry sighed inwardly. “Coming right up.” He wasn’t sure how he’d talked himself into this mess, but he did know that it was entirely on him. 

“Wait, Potter, you can’t-”

Harry turned his head to raise his eyebrows at Nott. “Why can’t I? It’s my shop.” He closed his mouth firmly.

“You’re wasting your money, Potter.” It was Bulstrode. “I can’t imagine that you want to spend it on us.”

“It’s not like I asked for any of it. People just keep dying and leaving it to me, like it makes up for them not having been there.” Harry set his jaw and busied himself with Nott’s sandwiches, carefully not looking at any of them, but especially not his new muggle friends.

He shoved the food at Nott. “Anyway, as many people as come barging in here to get a look at The-Boy-Who-Lived, I could pay my rent for the next year even if I just fed people for free. Who else wants something?” He knew he’d gone jerky in his voice and movements. Why couldn’t that have been the ungrateful sentiment that piled out of his mouth the first time?

“What’s the boy-who-lived? Someone else said something about that too.”

Harry looked down at Julian. The boy had popped up in front of the counter again. He breathed out carefully. “That’s me. I’m very famous here, because my mother died to save my life and everyone somehow decided that made me a hero.”

Harry heard an odd noise from one of the Slytherins. He ignored them all.

“A lot of people think that I did something special, but it was really all her.” He paused and smiled a little. “With a little help from a couple of Slytherins along the way.” 

Parkinson snorted. “I told you, Snape wouldn’t-”

“Malfoy and his mum, for instance,” said Harry flatly. “Regulus Black, who figured out how Voldemort was making himself immortal years before Dumbledore did.” He considered. “Slughorn, who helped Dumbledore figure it out.” He pulled a face. “He’s not my favorite teacher, but we couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Are you rehabilitating us, Saint Potter?” Malfoy’s back was straight. “I hope you’ll excuse me, Pansy, but I’m not going to stand around and be condescended to by-”

“I wasn’t actually talking to you, Malfoy. You’re welcome to jump in if you think I’m leaving something out, so long as you can be polite to my customers.”

Malfoy looked like he’d just bit into something sour. Harry looked at the other Slytherins. “Who else wants something? Food, beverage?”

Bulstrode was counting her change. 

“Merlin’s sake, Millicent, I told you it was my treat. My accounts aren’t frozen.” Zabini sounded tetchy. He turned to the boy and Harry went still. “Look, kid, there was a bad wizard, yeah? He killed a lot of people and their families, and people were scared. He made examples of people who stood up to him, and so a lot of good people made some dumb choices, including a lot of my friends’ parents. And once they had your family, you were in. Even if you’re like Theo here and you don’t really like your dad, you hem and haw and put off choosing a side to avoid your dad being tortured and killed, you know?” 

Harry wasn’t sure this was appropriate for an eleven-year-old, but his aunts weren’t stopping it. 

“And then along comes Potter here, and his family stood up to that wizard, and he killed Potter’s parents, but when he tried to kill Potter, he couldn’t. The curse bounced back somehow, and he disappeared for years. And even when he started trying to come back, there’s this kid, right? This speccy little kid in clothes three sizes too big for him when he’s not in his robes and he’s in all your classes, right? Kind of keeps himself to himself, but he’s just sort of average except for the fact that he vanquished the Dark Lord when he was one.”

“Sauron?” Julian was wide-eyed.

Malfoy, of all people, snorted.

“Voldemort.” Harry corrected. The Slytherins flinched. “People don’t like to hear his name, but I think it’s time we stopped being afraid of it.” 

Zabini sighed and kept going. “So the Dark Lord returns, and everyone in your house knows, because half of us have family who were tied up in this, but he’s keeping it hushed up in the rest of the wizarding world, and the only one saying anything about it is this same loudmouthed kid. And even though the ministry is doing their best to keep him quiet, he’s still talking. He’s always been famous enough that he never had to learn to keep the ministry happy, and by Merlin, he isn’t going to start now. And you sort of hate him, because he’s also never learned that there’s more than right and wrong when it comes to answers, but he’s also standing up there and flipping off the people in power playing into the Dark Lord’s hands.” 

Zabini was half-crouched and staring into the boy’s eyes. 

“And then things come out into the open, and he has to go into hiding, and people are still rallying around this fucking kid, and it’s just like,” he spread his hands. “Dude isn’t even here. He’s probably dead already, we’ve practically already lost before anything has begun…” He straightened, tugging at his tie. “And into the darkest night, here comes fucking Potter, like some white knight on horseback – was there actually a dragon, Potter? I heard there was some fast talking to make sure that you still had access to your accounts and you aren’t allowed past the desk at Gringotts.” 

Harry blushed. That was probably too much answer already.

“Anyway, he swans in and saves the day and vanquishes the Dark Lord and then wonders why we all think he’s a hero or something.”

Susie looked at Harry. “And at the end of all this, you’re making coffees.”

Harry lifted his hands. “Sometimes I make tea.” He dropped his gaze. “There will always be someone unhappy with what I did, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on guard against the possibility that that person or someone like them might attack. And I can’t go back to Hogwarts.”

“They won’t let you back?” 

Later, Harry would definitely feel smug about how indignant Bulstrode sounded on his behalf. 

He met her eye. “McGonagall asked me to come out. I couldn’t even make it into the Great Hall. I couldn’t stop smelling the blood, seeing the bodies.” He flinched and glanced at the kid. He was busy gazing at a blueberry muffin adoringly. Harry turned to Bettina and gestured. “May I?”

“What? Oh,” she saw, “Oh, no, we couldn’t ask-” 

“That’s why I’m offering,” Harry told her sternly and pulled the muffin out and into a bag. “For the road,” he announced, presenting it to Julian.

“Elevenses,” Malfoy suggested, with a twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

Harry looked at him. “I am going to die still curious about how you know Tolkien, aren’t I?”

Malfoy sighed. “We couldn’t possibly get that lucky. Here, if I’m on Blaise’s dollar, I’ll take a peppermint tea and two of those scones.” Harry pulled out the scones, added cream and jam to the plate, and waved his wand to start the tea steeping, glancing around at the other Slytherins. 

It took another twenty minutes to pull the rest of their orders out of his former classmates and get them settled. He had traded phone numbers with Julian’s aunts, just in case, and settled himself leaning over the edge of the counter with a pumpkin juice. 

Parkinson handed over the books and looked at her classmates. “Harry wants to have some base of knowledge, to help out students coming in with summer homework. I thought you lot might have something interesting in your libraries if you go home and have a look.”

Harry added his own plea. “It just doesn’t seem right to use Fortescue’s space and not try to carry on that part of his legacy and,” he gave Malfoy a sly glance, “it’s possible you didn’t get this at school, I hid it so well, but I never had a more than average grasp on anything we learned.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Except for potions. Take away Professor Snape and you shone.” He was clearly still bitter.

Harry flushed bright red and looked down at the ripples his suddenly shaking hand was making in his pumpkin juice. “I…” There was no easier way to admit this. “I didn’t think I was going to be able to take potions – I only got an E – and so Slughorn gave me a used copy of the text from the spares.” He gulped his juice to put off his next admission for another few seconds. “It was Professor Snape’s old copy, with all his notes in it.”

Malfoy’s jaw dropped. “You cheated.”

Harry shrugged. Too late, he questioned whether he had really owed these classmates that particular confession. “The notes were there, in the copy of the book Professor Slughorn gave to me.” He breathed. There was another admission he might as well make, while he was making them. “That spell I used – the one that almost killed you – it came from there too.” He couldn’t lift his eyes to see whatever was on Malfoy’s face right now. Couldn’t. “I still have nightmares that Professor Snape couldn’t save you. I know that doesn’t make it any better for you, but.”

“I would think we’d both have better things to have nightmares about at this point.” Malfoy didn’t sound especially angry, and Harry chanced a glance at his face. He looked resigned. It wasn’t an expression that seemed comfortable there. 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know what you think I did last year, but there wasn’t a lot of accidentally almost killing people I’d known for six years. That was… a different sort of horrific.” He didn’t really expect a response. 

“It’s amazing the variety of nightmares that we can keep in our heads at once.” Malfoy sneered, but not at Harry. And then, “I snuck out to London one day. I was supposed to be torturing your friend Lovegood, but she just looked sorry for me the whole time anyway, and I went Gringotts and changed money, and then I went to a muggle bookstore and I bought,” Malfoy paused. “I think I asked them for a book about evil getting vanquished.”

Harry smiled. “I never read the Lord of the Rings as a kid but I managed to see the movies.”

“You what?” Ron’s hands gripped themselves in his lap. 

“Borrowed it from Parkinson.”

“She’s probably hexed it.” Ron’s knuckles were white.

“She did try to turn you over to V-Voldemort, Harry. I don’t suppose you’d just let me check-” Hermione towards her wand, stopping as Harry shook his head.

“You should have seen her the first day she walked in.”

“She was there when he had a panic attack. It knocked him over, so it must have been middling bad, and it was just the two of them in the shop.” Ginny lounged back, tilting her chair.

“It blacked me right out,” Harry admitted. “She talked me out of it. Ginny walked in right after, but if Pansy had wanted-”

“Pansy?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Pansies are lovely flowers. Hardy in cold weather and they’re edible.” Luna looped a strand of Ginny’s hair around her finger. “They’re surprisingly resilient.”

Harry smiled at her. He was so grateful to Luna for being his friend. “She’s… I think she’s grown up a bit. She came with me to get an owl too.” He hesitated. “I wouldn’t call her a friend… yet. But I was thinking about asking if she wanted a part-time job. Mrs. Weasley can’t sub in all the time and we’ve been busy weekday afternoons too now that the Hogwarts crew is coming through.”

“She’ll never take it. A job working for you?” Ron scoffed.

Harry wasn’t used to keeping secrets from Ron and Hermione, but Pansy’s financial situation… It didn’t feel fair. She hadn’t even wanted him to know, and she didn’t seem to be out to get him. It was just gossip.

“She was very nice to a set of muggles in the shop the other day.” 

Bettina and Susie had invited him ‘round for dinner this week in exchange for more explanation of the wizarding world. They had asked him to invite Pansy “or that Tolkien boy.” Malfoy was obviously out of the question, but… Well, he was thinking about Pansy. And practicing using her first name.

The door of the Leaky Cauldron swung open and let in a trio of witches. “And I heard that they’re letting them back to Hogwarts.” 

“If I were Professor McGonagall, I’d take advantage and abolish the house. Should have been done years ago if you ask me.”

“I think that anyone *questionable* ought to have his or her wand taken away. Make them live like muggles themselves and see how they like it.” The third witch gave a horrid little giggle.

Harry’s hands balled into fists. It was only Luna’s steady gaze on him – not judging, just observing what he might do – that kept him from jumping to his feet to fight this battle too.

He forced himself to sit back. The rest of his table was watching him too. 

“And that’s it, mate?” Ron looked resigned. “We’re saving Slytherin now?”

Harry shrugged. “I wish I was better at it. I don’t know what I can say that will help and what will just put me in the same position so I can’t help them anyway.”

On his way back to the shop he stopped by the post office to send an owl.

Blaise Zabini was waiting outside his shop the next morning when Harry got in. He followed Harry inside and Harry gestured to a chair.

“You don’t mind if I spend a couple of minutes opening up?”

Zabini took the seat. “By all means, go ahead.”

Harry flicked his wand and stools placed themselves on the floor, followed by the rest of the chairs. Kettles and coffee grinders woke up and came to life and Harry took out the dough that had been resting overnight and began to shape it. 

Harry had been doing some thinking since dinner with his friends the night before. “You managed to stay neutral in the war.”

“Yes.” The other boy’s voice was bland. 

“It must have been a difficult line to walk. Trying not to upset Voldemort so much that he decided you weren’t on his side, but not doing his bidding either.”

“The Zabini’s have a long and glorious tradition of neutrality.” There was a pause. “Millicent has little cousins. Pansy too. And Tracy Davis has a little brother who will be a firstie this fall. They came to stay at my estate. I have my own, and Mother doesn’t bother my things. Theo’s mum was a muggleborn. The plan was for her to look after them, but- it ended up being her muggle sister. I just had to go to school and sound entitled and unaware of how serious the war was getting. Sound like I bought into everything that the Dark Lord was selling.” He looked half-asleep. Harry might feel bad later about taking advantage of that to learn such interesting things if he managed to also learn the thing he was really interested in learning. 

“That doesn’t sound like a walk in the park to me.”

Zabini shook himself. “I wasn’t an eight-year-old who was suddenly living with my younger sister and a load of strangers and having to learn to do things the muggle way.”

Harry shrugged. “Look, what I was trying to ask… I haven’t the faintest idea how to go about it, but I thought. Well. I feel like I’ve contributed to anti-Slytherin sentiment over the years.” He worried at his lower lip. “I’d like to help fix it, but I’m not really sure how best- It doesn’t seem like the sort of problem best faced head-on.”

Zabini’s gaze sharpened. “Let me know when you’re open for business, Potter. I might need coffee for this.”

Harry had thought this might be the case. He waved the mug of coffee that he had just finished pouring over to Zabini as he continued opening up. Zabini sipped and watched him. He tried not to let it bother him. 

“All those years of school, your first instinct was never for your wand unless it was a fight.”

Harry hummed noncommittally. He wasn’t going to lie, but the Dursleys weren’t a part of his life he wanted to share with everyone. 

“You’re finally starting to use your wand like a wizard – to clean and cook and move things out of your way all at once.”

“I did grow up with muggles you know.”

“You’ve been living in a wizarding household.”

Harry allowed himself a smile now. “Well Mrs. Weasley has been helping me with the store, and she taught me most of these. Hermione taught me others.” And the last few he had looked up once he’d seen Andromeda use them. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she would explain them to him. It was just that ninety percent of their interactions revolved around the baby, and it was less intimidating to check the baby book for the spell she used to change Teddy’s diaper than it was to ask Andromeda to explain as she blew through taking care of Teddy like a hurricane.

Harry mulled over Zabini’s advice as he served the customers. He wrote two letters for his new owl to carry as he loitered through the afternoon. He flipped open one of the books Pansy had brought and found it unexpectedly readable. Engrossed in that, closing time came and went, and if it weren’t for a surprised and grateful customer interrupting his reading for a late evening tea on the way home he could have stayed hours past closing. Instead, he was slipping both letters to the owl (he was going to need a name) twenty minutes later. 

“I’m sorry. Pansy is nice. At the other- Just drop the other letter and get out of there. If there’s an answer, he’ll send his own owl.” 

The owl leaned up towards Harry’s face. Harry flinched, but all the owl did was to run his beak over Harry’s ear, tucking a flyaway strand of hair into place. 

Harry smiled ruefully. “I know, I’m scruffy.” 

The owl hooted softly and took to the air. 

Harry stared at his letters the next morning and wondered which of them was craziest; him for offering, or the Slytherins for accepting. Probably Zabini, for putting the idea in Harry’s head at all. 

Malfoy was waiting for Harry outside the café when Harry arrived, coiled like a spring. The neighbors were going to think Harry was meeting each Slytherin boy separately. Clandestinely. He glanced again at Malfoy. Or that the Slytherin boys were lining up to sabotage him. Harry sighed inwardly and stepped forward to unlock the door. If the protective wards were going to be useful, they would need to be inside before they started snipping at each other. 

Harry fumbled with the lock in his rush. Malfoy was looming behind him. Harry took a breath and slowed down. “Let me open this door so we can do this inside.”

The back of Harry’s neck prickled as every instinct insisted that Malfoy shouldn’t be allowed where Harry couldn’t see him. He finally got the lock open and stepped back to undo the wards right into the warm body behind him. It was only the memory of Zabini’s scoffing (“And how long does it last, Potter? Will Draco have to insult you twice or will once be enough to crack your mask?”) that kept him facing the door with his wand trained on it and not behind him. He froze. 

Malfoy had gotten close enough that they were pressed together hips to shoulders. “Malfoy,” Harry hoped his voice was coming out mostly even. “I need to unward the door.”

There was a pause. “Right.” The warmth disappeared as Malfoy stepped back. 

Harry took a breath and began waving his wand over the handle.

Malfoy started as soon as Harry had opened the door. “What do you think you’re playing at? Do you think I need your pity?”

“Come in. Have a seat.” Harry flicked his wand to start the shop’s day off. “I’ll have some coffee ready in a minute.”

“I drink tea.” 

Harry ducked his head to hide a smile. “Well, then. We just have to wait a minute for the water to heat. Do you want peppermint tea again, or something else?”

The other man looked mollified. “Peppermint is fine. Or black tea, if you have it.”

Harry was in danger of smiling at him. That would be embarrassing.

“Look, Potter,” Unlike Zabini, Malfoy didn’t seem willing to wait until he’d gotten his drink, even if he was slightly less confrontational since being offered a seat and some tea. “What exactly are you playing at here? Do you think you’ll get away with pretending to be friends with me? All it takes is one exposé – remember the year Potter went around convinced Malfoy was up to something and it turned out the guy was trying to kill Dumbledore? Remember the year Malfoy and his friends started a rumor that Potter was mentally unhinged and the ministry ran with it for an entire year? – and I look like I’m manipulating you into forgetting all of that.”

Harry passed a tea over to Malfoy and kept another for himself as he sat down across from his sometime nemesis. “Look, I know it won’t be easy. And obviously, we aren’t going to pretend to forget about all of that.” He looked Malfoy in the eyes. “But Zabini and I agreed, it might make more of an impact that way. Even Malfoy and Potter have agreed to bury the hatchet in the name of cooperation. I thought I’d talk to Kingsley later too; he might be interested in starting a ministry program, something for interdepartmental cooperation.” Harry didn’t bother reminding the Slytherin that he had already accepted Harry’s invitation.

Malfoy watched him, unreadable, for a long moment. “And you still believe that, do you?” He gave a weird hysterical laugh. “Potter, in the past three years, how often has the government been on the side of right and justice? Just a rough estimate will do.”

He blinked when Harry snorted. “I didn’t say the government, I said Kingsley. I trust the Wizengamot about as far as I can throw them, and the rest of the Ministry less, but Kingsley knows me, he knows Andromeda, who was a Slytherin, he knew her daughter-”

“A-Andromeda-uh T-tonks?”

It wasn’t like Malfoy to stutter on a name like that. Harry studied him. “Yeah, Andromeda Tonks. Malfoy, are you…?”

“Do you know how I might get a message to her? I tried to send her a letter of condolence after the war, but my owl wouldn’t go; I think she must have some sort of wards up.”

“You tried to send her condolences.”

“She lost her husband and her daughter and her daughter’s husband – and I guess it doesn’t matter anymore if it gets out that Remus Lupin was the best defense teacher we ever had, even for Slytherin – and I don’t even know about her grandkid. Do you know if the baby made it?”

Harry felt his mouth dry at the thought of anyone trying to get to Teddy. His shoulders squared.

“Yeah, right, sorry, it was a stupid question. Babies can’t survive that young without their mothers. Not without a wet nurse, and where would you get one of them in the middle of a war? Not when you got cut out of the family’s money.” Malfoy swallowed and stared at his teacup.

Harry breathed. “Why do you care, Malfoy? I- His mother was a blood traitor and his father was a werewolf.” He didn’t correct the assumption yet. This was going to take its own conversation with Ron and Hermione about the apparent quality of neonatal care in the wizarding world. It was true that none of the wizarding books had mentioned baby formula… maybe? But the one had mentioned goat’s milk, and he was almost certain it had been a wizarding book…

Malfoy knocked back his tea and then spoke rapidly to his knees. “Look, Potter, I was raised to believe that blood tells. That blood relations are the most important relationships you can have. And then my father invited a megalomaniac into our lives and destroyed everything, including one of my oldest friends and my ability to relax inside my childhood home. The Dark Lord would give us updates on Andromeda’s daughter and Professor Lupin, you know, to shame us, and it was just nice, to think that somewhere in the darkness there was a part of my family that wasn’t just running scared.” 

His eyes flicked up to Harry’s face. 

“Anyway, you can’t believe that blood is more important than everything else and also throw away half your blood relations because they don’t do what you want. Mum used to tell me stories about her and,” he swallowed, “umm, Aunt Bellatrix, but sometimes the pictures had this other sister in them – sometimes the stories did – and you know, as a kid, you get just enough of a picture to know that there’s something dreadfully taboo she must have done, but no real understanding why it’s so bad. I didn’t ever call her my aunt in front of my parents, not after the first time, but I was fascinated by Aunt Andromeda and what she must have done.”

Parkinson – Pansy – dropped into the seat next to him. “You were an absolute rebel as a child, weren’t you? I remember who else you were fascinated by.”

Harry blinked, interested, as Malfoy went bright red. “Go on, Malfoy, I won’t laugh. Who was it?” Harry wracked his brain for other people related- “Was it Sirius? Actually,” distracted, “you and your mum should come to Grimmauld Place with me sometime. I can’t live there, and all I really want of it is some of Sirius’s stuff in his room, but you guys were related, weren’t you? Maybe there’s still some stuff there you’d actually care about. Kreacher might want some of it, but he’d probably be OK since you’re family. Oh! And your wand is there. I’ll bring it in for you if you give me enough warning to go and fetch it.”

Pansy snorted. “Po- Harry. That is not how you treat house elves.”

Harry scowled. “Well, I’ve seen how other people treat them and I’m not really willing to do that.”

Malfoy finally spoke. “Are you sure Potter? I’ll mention it to my mother, but only if you really mean it. She needs… something nice.”

Harry shrugged. “Fair warning, Kreacher went a little crazy for a few years and the place isn’t in the best shape, and the Order threw out a bunch of cursed things,” he paused for a breath, “but there should still be plenty that she would remember and maybe like. I might bring Hermione along, just to have someone in case we get attacked by an infestation of something in there, but you’re welcome any time. Just let me know.”

“And this muggle family?” Malfoy looked more comfortable with the whole concept of getting along with Harry now, save for some residual redness in his cheeks. Harry wondered who this other person had been. Probably Sirius.

“Bettina and Susie invited you to come with me. They called you “the Tolkien boy.” I doubt they meant Zabini or Nott.”

“I can’t be out past eight.”

“Is your curfew that early?” Harry blinked at him.

“No, I.” He dropped his gaze to the mug in his hand and drew a finger ‘round the rim. “Greg gets worried if its dark and I’m not back. He-” Malfoy cleared his throat and tried again. “Vincent…”

Harry nodded, to stop Malfoy having to say it. “So they said five thirty or six o’clock. I’ll tell them five thirty if you like, and that should give us plenty of time.” He paused. “If you don’t want to talk about it we can tell them that, I dunno, you’re…”

Malfoy shook his head. “We can just tell them I have a curfew and leave it at that, Potter. It doesn’t matter who assigned the curfew, just that it’s there and I respect it.”

Harry nodded. “Alright. I’ll give them a call and I’ll see you tomorrow at five, yeah? We can head over there together.”

Malfoy nodded, looking exhausted.

Harry walked out the door at five, glancing back at where Ginny was pulling an apron over her head and Pansy was pulling a face at his ex-girlfriend’s back.

Malfoy spoke behind him and Harry froze to avoid whipping around and pointing a wand at him.

“They’ll get along. They both like Lovegood. Sooner or later they’ll figure that out and stop glaring at each other.”

Harry turned to look at the other man. Malfoy was not, as Harry now realized he had halfway expected, in a suit. Instead, the other wizard had arrayed himself in trousers and a delicate green shirt with a wide neck. 

“You’re not really wearing that, are you?”

Harry glanced down at his own clothes, biting back the laugh bubbling up his throat. “What problem do you have with my clothes, Malfoy?”

Malfoy gestured at them, like all Harry had to do was look at them.

Harry shrugged. “They’re my clothes.” Malfoy's top exposed his clavicle. He had always looked thin, but this was extreme. The war hadn’t treated Voldemort’s side any better than Harry’s.

“They look like they were sized for an elephant, Potter. You could probably fit your whole body through the sleeves of that shirt.”

Harry glanced down again and shrugged. It was a hand-me-down from Dudley, but… “Madame Malkin’s doesn’t sell muggle clothing. I keep meaning to go out into the muggle world for something, but I haven’t had the time.” 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “We’ll go on the way. We have time if we’re quick about it.”

Harry followed Malfoy through the store, bemused, as Malfoy alternated between frowning at the racks and frowning at Harry. 

At the fitting rooms he finally relinquished the stack of clothes to Harry. “You’ll come out and let me look at it. You clearly don’t know how to dress yourself and I won’t be seen with someone who looks like he’s draped a set of curtains over himself and cut a few holes.”

Harry snorted. “Just for that, I’m buying a poncho.”

He left Malfoy to wonder what that was and studied the assortment of clothing Malfoy had picked out for him in the changing stall. It was a little bit more colorful than Harry might have picked for himself and skewed towards Gryffindor colors, which was thoughtful of Malfoy, Harry supposed. It wasn’t until he was halfway through the stack that he realized why it had looked so odd. Harry was so used to people buying him clothes to match his eyes that the lack of green in the stack hadn’t even registered except as odd.

They made it to Bettina and Susie’s house only five minutes late and without any visible tags on Harry’s red button down or his jeans. Malfoy had tried to pair a horrific gold pullover, but Harry had refused to be turned into a walking advertisement for Gryffindor. 

Julian opened the door. “They’re here!”

“OK, so what do you do?” Bettina’s voice carried down the hall. 

Julian frowned at them for a moment. 

Harry shifted his weight, uncertain.

Malfoy leaned forward and half-whispered at the boy. “What do you think? Do you want to invite us in? Or do we need to pay a toll?”

Julian frowned at him. “What sort of toll would you pay?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I could answer a question about the wizarding world. Potter, here, might have some trouble with it, but,” he let his voice trail off and waited. 

Harry was fascinated.

Julian shrugged and pulled the door open. “Aunt Bettina said that’s why you were here anyway. Come in?”

Harry waited until they were in and Julian had thumped down the hall towards his aunt to look at Malfoy. “I didn’t realize you liked kids.”

Malfoy pulled a face. “I don’t. That’s just what Fudge and a couple of father’s other ministry contacts used to say when they came around. Of course, his toll was candy, but I didn’t think I’d better offer candy before dinner without checking with his aunts.”

They emerged into the kitchen where Bettina was cooking while Susie perched on the counter and passed her things. 

“Ta for that,” Susie nodded at Malfoy. 

Julian looked at Malfoy. “Will you still answer questions now that I let you in?”

Malfoy bobbed his head and swallowed. Harry realized that the other man was nervous. 

“Certainly. What were you hoping to know?”

Julian considered them for another long moment and then ducked out of the room. He was back before Harry and Malfoy could do more than share a bewildered glance, tinged with panic on Malfoy’s end. 

“So that nice Chinese girl-”

“Julian, you don’t know where she’s from,” Susie frowned at the boy.

“That nice girl,” Julian corrected himself dutifully, “recommended these two books, but this one,” he thumped the first tome down on the table and flipped it open, “says that powdered beetle eyes speed up the process, and this one,” he thumped the second book down beside the first, “calls them a catalyzer.”

Susie blinked at him. “Julian, that’s a vocabulary question. You could have come to me.”

Julian crossed his arms. “You don’t make potions.”

Susie hopped off of the counter and slid a hand onto either shoulder, using them as grip points to sway her nephew back and forth. “I do chemistry though.”

Julian frowned up at her. “Not with- with porcupine quills and- and lacewing flies!”

Harry worried at his lip. This conversation was so close to making sense. There was something about the word catalyzer. He turned to Malfoy. “Aren’t catalyzers used to speed up potion-making?”

Malfoy’s eyebrows went up and for a moment Harry was certain he was going to say something snotty. In the end though, he just nodded and said, “Potions prodigy,” in a tone that Harry would have interpreted as affectionate if it had come from Hermione or Ron.

Malfoy relaxed well before the end of dinner and Harry thought they’d had a nice time. While Susie cleared their plates and refused Harry’s help, Julian, at Harry’s instigation, began to explain muggles to Malfoy. It began as a game. 

“You should tell Malfoy about the post office- wait, explain email to him.”

And turned into something that fascinated Malfoy enough to make him forget his dignity and even turn slightly pink, the way he used to sometimes during potions class when he was enthused or under stress. It was Harry who glanced at his watch and turned to Malfoy. 

“It’s ten to eight Malfoy. Did you need to…”

Malfoy had already straightened from where he had been sitting on the floor inspecting Julian’s ballpoint pen and notebook. “Right.” He turned to Bettina and Susie. “Thank you so much for a lovely dinner. I had a really excellent time. I’m very sorry to have to run.” He turned to frown as Harry also got to his feet. “I don’t mean to make you leave, Potter.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t want to impose all night. And I said I’d be home to-” he stopped. He’d offered to watch Teddy during Andromeda’s book club, but he still hadn’t told Malfoy that Teddy was alive. Or how well he knew Andromeda. He shrugged instead. “It was really awfully nice of you to have us over. You’ll have to come to mine sometime.” He was sure Andromeda wouldn’t mind. If she would, he could ask the Weasleys.

“And I’ll bring Draco a space pen of his own!” Julian’s eyes went wide. “It writes upside down! And in water!”

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it, but if you leave it with Potter I’m sure he could get it to me.” Malfoy’s smile looked sickly. 

Julian was crestfallen.

Harry sighed. “Malfoy, if you can’t get along with my roommate or the Weasleys, I can always have them over to Grimmauld Place. We both have wands and the kitchen is plenty safe.”

Malfoy snorted. 

Julian cocked his head at them. “Do you not get along with Harry’s friends?”

Malfoy shrugged. “We fought against each other in a war, Julian. It doesn’t matter that I was trying to protect my family. I was still fighting against them. I- Even Potter doesn’t get along with me.”

Julian frowned. “But that other man said that you were scared. The tall one.”

Harry breathed. “We were all scared, Julian. And we’re going to move past it. Malfoy and I are getting along now. It’s just taking some work. It’s like- Do you have anyone in school who you can’t stand? Maybe they get attention you think they don’t deserve? Or they think they’re all that because of their family?”

Julian scowled. “The best thing about going to Hogwarts is leaving Simon behind.”

Malfoy snorted. “Potter and I were on opposite sides since before we were sorted.” 

Harry watched the other man swallow again and checked his watch. Five minutes. 

“We played the same position on rival teams. The teacher who loved me hated him and was rude to his friends.”

Harry thought back to that first train ride. “We both sort of rubbed each other the wrong way from the start.” 

Julian lit up. “Like Elizabeth and Mr. Da–”

“No.” Bettina slipped a hand in front of her nephew’s mouth. “Thank you very much for coming, Harry, Draco. We were delighted to have you. We don’t want to make you late for your appointment.” She frowned severely at Julian, who giggled, and rose to walk them to the door. “Give me a call, Harry, if you want to have us over before September first and think you’ll have time for it. Otherwise, please don’t worry about it.”

She waved them out the door. Malfoy looked at Harry for a minute like he was going to speak and then disapparated. Harry sighed and began walking to the nearest Floo.

Pansy came in early the next day. She tied on her apron and began making drinks before the customers registered who she was. As it had gone the day before, the next several customers each leaned across the counter as they handed over their money to whisper loudly at Harry. 

“Are you sure it’s… wise? Having a, well. You know what she did.”

“I wouldn’t have expected her to be working for you.”

“Why?”

“Well, she’s a…”

“A what?”

“A Death Eater!”

“She’s not though. I’ve seen her forearm.”

“But that’s just a formality. Everyone knows she’s a sympathizer.”

Each time, Pansy pretended not to flinch and Harry made an effort to shrug as if he didn’t care. “A lot of us did stupid things during the war. I, for one, did enough fighting during it. I’m ready to move on. So’s Pansy. And she makes a mean coffee, as you’re about to find out!” 

When the lull finally came, Harry leaned his head down, elbows on the counter, and fisted his hands in his hair. He spoke from that position. “How do you resist hexing them all? I want to hex them, and they aren’t even insulting me, mostly.”

There was a laugh from the doorway and he looked up in horror before he recognized Ginny’s laugh. Luna was with her, and Harry felt his shoulders relax. 

“Hullo. Can I get you guys anything? On the house.”

“You’re going to bankrupt yourself in spite of the number of customers you have here if you keep giving out free food to everyone.” Pansy smiled at the newcomers. “He even gives out free food to Blaise and Draco now.”

Luna smiled at Harry. “He’s very nurturing towards his friends and their families.”

To Harry’s surprise, Ginny nodded affably at Pansy and agreed. “He’s just expanded the definition a little bit to include you and yours. Best of luck with that.”

Harry decided this had gone on long enough and caught Andromeda in the kitchen the next morning. 

“Draco Malfoy said he tried to send you condolences after the war. He asked me if I would give him a way to contact you. He wants to apologize.”

In retrospect, he would acknowledge that he should have realized she would react that way. He was just so used to thinking of his being a Slytherin as part and parcel of Malfoy’s most undesirable quality, and Andromeda wouldn’t share that prejudice with him.

“He can save his apologies. My husband is dead because of him. My daughter.” Her voice went low when she was angry, and intense. “Draco Malfoy and his family can go to hell. There will be no touching reunions with the long-lost Light half of the family. Sirius is dead because of them.” 

Harry thought that was unfair. “Sirius is dead because of Bellatrix. And I don’t think his parents are involved in this.” 

“So he’s better at politics and manipulation than they are? Well, now I want to meet him.”

Harry ignored the sarcasm and tried the piece he probably should have started with. “I’ve devoted seven years of my life to hating Malfoy and reading the worst possible motive into everything he does, and this isn’t manipulation of his public image.” He didn’t mention that Malfoy had Harry to help him with that. “Malfoy’s never been good at hiding his emotions from me. I’d know if he was lying.”

Andromeda took a breath, her jaw clenched against a further diatribe. Harry hurried to continue.

“I think he followed his parents without really realizing what was going on, and then when he did realize he’d already taken the Dark Mark to protect his mum. He lied to Bellatrix to save us. I know he recognized me. He wanted out just as soon as he’d gotten in.”

Andromeda looked like she was coming down from her fury. Harry was grateful that she was angry so differently from Bellatrix. “And you want me to welcome him in and play the gracious host?”

Harry shrugged. “Or just read a letter if he sends it along with me. You don’t have to respond, I don’t think. He asked me if Teddy was alive, but I haven’t said anything without your say-so.”

“He has no right to ask anything about Teddy.” Andromeda’s voice was still stretched thin, and Harry decided to leave it. Hell, if Dudley’s child came asking after Harry, he wouldn’t want Dudley to know anything about him either. “I’ll read a letter, but I won’t promise to do anything more than that.”

It was the next day that Harry discovered his capacity to still be shocked by the customers he was attracting when Narcissa Malfoy swept in at ten am. He glanced behind her, but Draco wasn’t there. Pansy, beside him, covered her surprise with cheerful customer service. 

“Mrs. Malfoy! What can I get for you?”

Narcissa’s lip curled as she stared at Harry. “You! Stay away from my son, boy. Haven’t you endangered my family enough?” 

There was one very old wizard napping in the far corner in front of his coffee and two young witches – maybe third year – watching avidly. Harry sighed and tried to relax his shoulders out of the automatic slouch that the word ‘boy’ engendered. 

“I don’t suppose you would be interested in taking this discussion somewhere more private?” And when she drew herself up to disagree with the need he continued hurriedly. “I’m not going near Malfoy.” 

He wouldn’t wonder what spurred this outright lie until later. 

“I just thought you guys might want some things from Grimmauld Place. It doesn’t hold many happy memories for me, but I assume it does for you.”

“It should have come to me when Aunt Walburga died.” She was spitting mad. “It never should have fallen into the paws of that blood traitor.”

Harry balled his fists below the counter and reminded himself that, with the wards, there was no point in trying to hex her.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Pansy had slipped around the counter and laid a gentle hand on Narcissa’s arm. “None of us wants to make a scene. Let me get you settled with a nice cream tea. Potter may not be good for much” – she made an apologetic face behind Narcissa’s back at Harry – “but he’s got some lovely quality tea, imported from India.”

Harry paced behind the counter, trying to think of a way to lose some of his fury. 

The flour canister got shoved in his way. He glared up at Pansy, who flinched but held her ground. “Make some more scones, Harry.” She took a breath. “I’ll get Narcissa out of here.”

Harry nodded – he’d thank her later, he promised himself, when the words would come out in a normal tone and volume – and began assembling the dough. He acknowledged ruefully minutes later, as he began to knead the dough, that Pansy had somehow known exactly what he needed. He thanked her as she came back from serving Narcissa her tea and then glanced over at the older woman. 

“Isn’t it a bit early for clotted cream?”

Pansy’s mouth tightened. “That woman somehow held herself and her family together for two years while they lived in a madhouse. If she wanted to eat clotted cream at six in the morning, I don’t see how it would bother you.”

Harry forced himself to take another breath and consider it before he said anything. Reminded himself again that he didn’t want to fight another war in ten years. 

“My godfather died protecting me from her sister. I appreciate her lying to Voldemort for me, but I don’t like standing and listening to his memory being… abused that way.”

Pansy nodded. 

Harry didn’t say anything about the years the Dursleys had spent maligning his parents or the special way that the word ‘boy’ made him feel incapable and angry. 

Pansy’s voice was soft when she spoke again. “Mrs. Malfoy has spent all summer learning to bow her head and accept treatment as a second-class citizen, Harry. It’s not easy for any of us to feel indebted to the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Harry jerked around to look at her. “You don’t feel that way, do you?” And when she just looked exasperated with him he shook his head. “No! Pansy, you’ve been working here four days and I honestly don’t know how I got on without you. You’ve been indispensable finding books for me, you provided moral support when I had to go get an owl, and,” he gestured into the room, noting that the two witches were giggling between each other again, “I can’t begin to imagine how I would have done anything about Narcissa yelling at me that wouldn’t have just escalated everything. Indispensable.” He glared into her face. “I mean it.”

Pansy blinked at him wonderingly. “You really believe that, don’t you?” She shook her head. “You are so weird, Potter.” She rang in Narcissa’s tea and paid for it out of her pocket. Harry watched, unsure how he felt about it. He didn’t want to offer Narcissa Malfoy free food – that seemed taking things a step too far – but he didn’t want impoverished Pansy paying him.

Narcissa solved the dilemma for him by coming back over when she was finished. Harry faded back and pretended to be rummaging in a drawer to avoid looking at her.

“Thank you, Pansy, that was lovely. How much do I owe you?”

Pansy’s voice was firm. “Mrs. Malfoy. I can’t possibly take your money.”

“I’m not so poor that I can’t pay for my meal, Pansy dear, and I doubt your boss would approve.” 

Harry, finding himself in the conversation anyway, stood and turned. “I can’t say that I would give you a free meal, Narcissa, but Pansy knows she’s welcome to give out food to friends the same as I do.” He looked at Pansy. “Isn’t this putting her in the same position you just scolded me for putting her in?”

Narcissa blinked at him. “And what position is that, Mr. Potter?”

Harry took a breath. “Harry, please.” He lifted his chin slightly. “The position of being indebted to someone.” He took a breath and continued. “I owe you my life and the speedy resolution of the war. I hardly think that giving you things I don’t care about anyway is enough to indebt you to me, but I tried to make it clear to Draco that it was entirely up to you.” He paused. Narcissa was looking at him oddly. “I also warned him that the house stood empty between when Sirius’s mum died and when Sirius moved into it. We cleaned it up some, but,” Harry wrinkled his nose. “The house elf went a bit… weird. The house was neglected for years. If you do want to come take a look, I recommend bringing a wand. And I’ll probably bring a few friends along in case we meet a boggart or some other unpleasant creatures.” It suddenly registered that he had used Malfoy’s first name. That contrary streak was going to get him into trouble someday.

Narcissa studied him. “I could be available tomorrow at eleven.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll ask around for someone to accompany us.” He paused. “Can I send Draco’s wand with you, for him?”

Narcissa hesitated. “My… apologies. For the…”

Harry breathed out. “I accept your apology.” He paused. “Please try to be less vicious about my godfather tomorrow. He was the best family I’ve had the chance to meet.” His hands skittered along the shelf beneath the countertop. “And I don’t need your permission to talk to your son, but I promise to do my best to keep him safe.”

Narcissa frowned at that but seemed to accept that it was the best offer she was going to get. 

When Harry and Hermione met Narcissa in front of Grimmauld Place the following morning, she had brought her son and Millicent Bulstrode. 

Hermione gave Harry a long-suffering look as they approached. “You and your saving people thing. Now I’m going to have to spend the day playing nice with the Malfoys and Millicent Bulstrode, of all people.”

Harry shook his head. “One word, Hermione. SPEW.” He stepped forward to greet his guests. “Hello Malfoy. Narcissa.” He glanced at the third Slytherin. “Bulstrode, it was nice of you to join us.” He managed to keep himself from turning the final sentence into a question somehow. 

“Mrs. Malfoy said that you were worried about magical creatures in the house.” She was watching his face as she spoke. “You know I’m starting an internship on the dragon preserve in Romania next week.”

Harry blinked at her. “I- Pansy hadn’t mentioned it. That’s cool. Are you excited?” 

He didn’t think he’d ever seen Millicent Bulstrode looking enthusiastic before. 

“I took the liberty of inviting Millicent along when I realized that I hadn’t given you much time to find friends who wouldn’t be working today.” Narcissa somehow managed to make the statement sound like an insult.

Harry smiled blandly. “Well, we should get inside, but if you wanted to talk about how you got a job on a dragon preserve,” he tilted his head at Bulstrode, “I’d be fascinated.”

Draco Malfoy was being suspiciously nice. Harry waited until the Malfoys were both out of earshot looking at the fine china to ask about it. “Who polyjuiced in as Malfoy then, today?”

Bulstrode blinked and snorted. “Please. He’s making a point. From what I gather, Parkinson told on Mrs. Malfoy trying to warn you off and Draco got snippy.” She gestured, amused. “This is ‘You can’t tell me who to be friends with’ and don’t tell me you haven’t done it yourself. Blaise said that you’re adopting Parkinson.” She looked meaningfully at Hermione, who was sitting at the table absorbed in reading a slim volume on Wizarding politics. “I’m sure that some of your friends have tried to tell you what a bad idea that is.” 

Harry frowned. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

Bulstrode shrugged. “Are you going to stop if I do?”

Sometimes he thought he was getting used to the Slytherins. “No.” He smiled a little. “But I’m curious anyway.” He studied her. “You never seemed like you ran with Malfoy and Pansy at school.” 

Bulstrode twirled her wand in her hand. “I didn’t. I’m closer with Theo and Blaise. We grew up together; Theo’s mum looked after us. But Draco,” She stopped suddenly and went off again more slowly. “I'm actually closer with Mrs. Malfoy than Draco. Too much drama for me. And it’s not that I don’t like Parkinson.” Another pause, and now Hermione was paying attention too, eyes lifting from her book. “But she’s devoted to Draco, so I never trusted- I don’t even know if she would look after herself over him.”

Harry considered this. “You didn’t want to be friends with her because she’s a good friend.”

“I didn’t bother trying to be friends with her because there was no room to break into their little clique.” Bulstrode frowned. “I’m impressed that you managed it, Potter. Hidden depths.”

Harry snorted, uncomfortable. “Not really.” He thought of the look on Pansy’s face the first time she’d walked in. It had probably been guilt that gave him a chance, but if Bulstrode was going to censor herself so carefully he didn’t see why he should remind them all of that day. This house was oppressive enough without that.

Harry wandered into the upstairs study just before one. “Hey, are you guys getting hungry? It’s getting on towards lunchtime, isn’t it?”

Narcissa began speaking before he finished. “Did you want to leave? I put aside what I’d be interested in taking on the table if you want to look it over.”

Harry frowned. “I’m happy to stay as long as you want. And I made an open offer. You can have whatever you want from any room but Sirius’s.”

He glanced at the table. There was a set of goblets and some colorful glass bowls. “That’s not a lot. I’m sure Malfoy Manor is already furnished, but… you could clean out these rooms and I wouldn’t care. You know that, right? You’ve got a better claim to it than I do, more personal attachment, and it’s not like I have any use for it. I offered it to Andromeda but she said she didn’t want any of it.” Too late, he remembered Malfoy’s tale about Narcissa’s dislike of her sister. 

Narcissa drew herself up but didn’t speak. 

Harry continued. “I was just coming to ask if you wanted anything for lunch. Kreacher is a pretty good cook.”

Malfoy faced Harry instead of his mother as he spoke. “I told you, Harry is plenty of things, but he’s not someone who makes grand offers that he doesn’t mean.”

Harry blinked and Malfoy’s eyes dropped to the carpet. 

Narcissa ignored her son. “You know, Aunt Walburga used to serve a beautiful light cucumber soup in the summer. I wonder if it’s the same house elf.”

Harry resettled his shoulders. “I can certainly ask.”

Lunch was awkward. Hermione saved them all, asking Bulstrode questions about her upcoming internship. 

It was only as they were slowing down and thinking about seconds that Malfoy asked, “Why quiz Millicent? I heard you and Wea- Ron are together. His brother works on the Romanian reserve, doesn’t he?”

Harry jumped to Hermione’s defense before he’d registered the honest curiosity in Malfoy’s voice. “We’ve only met Charlie a couple of times, Malfoy. He doesn’t spend a lot of time in England, being as he works in Romania and all.” He winced at his own hostility. Zabini had been right to be dubious.

Hermione smiled as she answered. “But Millicent is our age. Charlie’s older. He was already an adult when we met him. It’s different, when it’s a schoolmate, isn’t it?”

Narcissa was sneering at Harry like she’d known he couldn’t hold that polite façade. It was that that prompted his next words. “I’m sorry Ma- Draco, I shouldn’t have snapped.” He bit his lip. 

Malfoy blinked at him, then smiled. “Well, now that you’ve reacted defensively the one time I wasn’t trying to be offensive that’s it. We’re through. Obviously.” He searched Harry’s face and Harry felt an answering grin start in spite of himself. 

“Obviously. Merlin.”

Millicent looked fascinated. 

Harry felt himself blushing.

“Through with what?” Hermione’s voice was diffident, but as if she were trying to hide her interest. 

It was Malfoy who answered. “Potter’s trying to rehabilitate Slytherin, haven’t you heard?”

Harry figured he’d better put an end to that. “We’re just trying to be friendly. We’re all adults now, you know?” Which reminded him. “Do you think we could make Grimmauld Place safe for a couple of muggles and a kid? I have some friends I’d like to be able to invite over.” 

Hermione and Narcissa nodded together and then glanced at each other, bemused. 

Narcissa spoke first. “I’m very fond of many of the magical artifacts that might be unsafe for your muggles, and there is space at Malfoy Manor to house the rest of them if you want, or I can share my contacts with you if you’d rather sell them.”

Harry blinked at that. “I hadn’t thought of selling…” He glanced around the house, wondering what the market was like in Wizarding real estate. Imagined having a real house he could go home to, one where he didn’t feel like he was living on Andromeda’s good will (as good as it seemed to be) or hear Sirius and Professor Lupin down every hall. Grimmauld Place would have to be made safe first, but (shocking he’d never considered it before) maybe there were professionals to help with that too. 

Hermione broke the silence. “And I’ve been reading. I’m pretty sure I know how to fix it so that the portrait stays covered for the duration of your party. We can at least rescue the kitchen and dining room, and maybe the sitting room across the hall.”

“What portrait?” Narcissa was looking at Harry.

Harry winced. “There’s a portrait of Sirius’s mum in the front hall. We think there’s a permanent sticking charm on it, but she yells at everyone something awful.”

Narcissa lifted her chin. “She stuck it there herself?”

Harry nodded. 

Narcissa looked sad. “She got paranoid, after Regulus disappeared. Then when Sirius went to Azkaban…” She shook her head. “No wonder the house elf went a little bit crazy. Let me take a look.” She stood, daubing her mouth with her napkin. 

Harry stood too. “Sirius and Professor Lupin tried to take her down.”

Narcissa’s chin tipped up dangerously. “Did either of them specialize in interior design charms?”

Harry blinked at her. The idea had never crossed his mind, but he supposed she had house elves, and only one son, and even Mrs. Weasley did other things, like knitting.

“Mrs. Weasley tried too,” he faltered under her stare. 

“Molly Prewett may have improved her charms since Hogwarts, but while she was excellent in Herbology, I was top of our class in Charms and Transfiguration.”

Harry shut up and led the way into the hall. He’d never considered what Mrs. Weasley might have done aside from raising children either. It wasn’t like Hogwarts offered home ec. 

He registered the other three clustered by the door as he turned and gestured at the curtain. “She’s behind here.” He spoke at half volume. “I can open the curtain, but if she sees me she’ll start screaming.” 

Narcissa sighed. “I need to see in order to know if I can remove it.”

Harry nodded and pulled the curtain aside. 

“MUDBLOODS AND HALFBLOODS IN THIS HOUSE! DESECRATION! FIL-” She caught sight of Narcissa. “YOU?! HOW DARE YOU! CONSORTING WITH- IF YOUR FATHER WAS ALIVE!”

Narcissa studied the frame, face impassive. “Aunt Walburga. I would say it’s a pleasure to see you, but then, you’ve always treated me like family, so I don’t see why I should lie to you.”

Harry was impressed in spite of himself. 

“BLOOD TRAITOR!”

“Really, Aunt Walburga, there’s company.” Narcissa’s voice was light, but Harry could see the muscles in her shoulders. “And you know better than to expect a permanent sticking charm to slow me down, don’t you?”

The portrait was turning purple with rage. Harry had never considered before, but he wondered if wizarding portrait painters had to add paint for the shades that might appear as the subjects moved and interacted with people.

Narcissa flicked her wand decisively twice, once to either side of the portrait, and then gave a little tug and the portrait came off of the wall. 

Harry’s jaw dropped. “That was… Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I really appreciate it.” He stared at the portrait, who seemed to have been rendered speechless with rage. “I- What do people do with unwanted portraits?” Sticking her in the attic seemed cruel.

Narcissa shrugged. “You can store her in the Black vault at Gringotts or you can call a specialist to undo the charms that give her personality. They’ll destroy the portrait for you.”

“That’s not… I dunno,” Harry frowned. “It’s not like killing them?”

He caught Malfoy’s exasperated look from the other end of the hall.

“Alright, Malfoy, tell me why that’s stupid.”

Malfoy’s smile was almost fond. “She’s already dead. It’s not like a ghost. More like catching an echo, or a memory. If you don’t want to hold onto a memory of someone, it’s hardly murder to let it go.”

Hermione muttered, “Memories are our legacy though. If you erase that…”

Harry smiled at them both. “But do we really want Sirius’s mum’s legacy to keep on?” He asked, and that was enough for her to find her words. 

“FILTHY BLOOD TRAITORS AND MUDBLOOD SCUM! BEASTLY LITTLE-” 

Narcissa waved her wand and the curtain floated down to silence the portrait again. 

Harry breathed. “Thank you. Could you recommend a… specialist to me?”

He was rewarded with a smile that looked almost friendly. 

“Certainly. I can owl you the address later, when I find it?”

Harry started to nod, then stopped and flushed, thinking of Andromeda’s wards. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind sending it to the café? My… The landlady has some truly impressive wards and I don’t want to miss it.”

Narcissa’s eyebrows drew together, but she smiled anyway. “Of course. I’ll send it in the next couple of days, as soon as I unearth the business cards.”

Harry smiled back sheepishly. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Bulstrode was frowning at him. “Why pay to rent when you’ve got a whole house right here, Potter?” He didn’t think he was reading too much into things seeing the money troubles of half of Slytherin in the curl of her lip. 

Harry flushed again. 

Malfoy offered a way out. “There’s a lot of stuff here.” He glanced at his mother. “Harry wanted more than three of us in the house to go through it. I’d imagine that’s not conducive to relaxing in your study after work.” Harry thought that “relaxing in your study” sounded ridiculously posh. Only a Malfoy.

Bulstrode’s expression didn’t change. “Then hire someone. Or sell the dark artifacts.”

Harry scowled. “It’s not that simple. A lot of them could do some damage in the wrong hands, and…” He trailed off, caught Malfoy’s sideways glance, and forged on. “I can’t be in this house on my own. The war left us all with scars, Bulstrode.” He shut his jaw before he could say anything more incriminating and imagined welding it shut. 

Hermione said softly, “Oh, Harry.” Her hands fluttered for a moment like she was thinking of touching him, but then settled back to her sides. 

Narcissa broke the standoff. “Well, if we’re going to make this place muggle-safe we should get moving. Should we start with the sitting room?”

Pansy smirked at Harry when she arrived the next day. “I hear you made *quite* the impression on Narcissa yesterday. Apparently if Draco doesn’t stop making his point by calling you by your first name Narcissa’s liable to start hinting that he should hurry up and make you part of the family.” Her amusement was clear. 

Harry felt his stomach drop and forced a snort. 

Pansy studied him as he hurried behind the counter. “Are you interested in Draco? Is that why you’re looking like that?”

Harry set his jaw. Breathed. “You just made it sound… absurd. For a Gryffindor and a Slytherin to be friends. And the idea that two men might… I thought the wizarding world was OK about that sort of thing. I thought we were friends, you and I.” His voice was soft. (And wasn’t that an odd thought to put away for another time. Ron and Hermione had been enough friends for him for years.)

“Harry.” Pansy sounded like she was trying not to be amused. “Of course we’re friends. It wasn’t about any of that, Harry. The joke was about scheming mothers and all of the bad blood between you and Draco. I’m delighted that you’re trying to work through it, but can you honestly say that you think you and Draco will ever be more than polite acquaintances?”

Harry felt his stomach lurch again. A protest flew out before he’d thought it through. “Don’t you think there’s a further distance between what we were and acquaintances than what we were and whatever we’re doing now? I couldn’t tell you what color Anthony Goldstein’s eyes are or what Michael Corner thought about the foreign students during the Triwizard tournament.” He realized how that sounded and stopped himself with an effort. “I mean- I don’t mean- I just think that Malfoy and I aren’t ever going to be just acquaintances. You know?”

Pansy sighed. “What am I going to do with the pair of you anyway?”

Harry took a breath and gestured towards the counter. “For now I hope you’ll help me open up?”

He walked into the Leaky Cauldron for his weekly fifth wheel lunch date and found Pansy already sitting at the table beside Ginny. They were at an eight person table and there was a cloak on the back of the chair beside her. 

There was no reason for Harry to pretend he didn’t know who it belonged to. He hadn’t realized that Pansy and Malfoy were still dating. 

He glanced at the empty seat between Hermione and Luna. They were already sniping at one another about something. Harry glanced again and then picked the seat between Ron and Malfoy. It was almost worth the discomfort for the view of Malfoy turning from the bar only to catch sight of him and freeze. Harry bit his lip and tuned into Luna’s and Hermione’s discussion with effort. 

“And I find it hard to believe that Newt Scamander’s great- great- grandson thought that you and Zabini were exactly the experts he wanted to bring on an expedition.”

“Oh, well I don’t know if Zabini was along for his expertise in magical creatures.”

Pansy broke in with a cackle. “Oh, I think that’s exactly why he went along. Or should I say, expertise in one particular beast.” She waggled her eyebrows and Harry watched Hermione choke with some concern. 

“Oi,” Ron scowled. “That’s my little sister’s girlfriend you’re making insinuations about.”

“Oi,” Ginny slammed her palm on the table, leaning towards Ron. 

Harry slouched in his seat, trying simultaneously to look like a bad ally for either Weasley sibling to turn to and like he hadn’t noticed Malfoy walking up to his left and pulling out his chair.

“Don’t bash one of my girlfriends in order to stick up for the other one, Ronald.”

“As it happens,” Pansy fluttered her eyelashes at Ron, “I meant Rolf Scamander. I mean, nothing against Luna if she did tap that too.” She smiled over at the blonde, “He’s not the worst I’ve ever had.”

Normally Harry would have left it and asked Pansy to clear things up for him later, when there wasn’t a disagreement he might be expected to join at any moment, but, “Wait, Pansy, I thought… You’re not with Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s face was a study. 

“Harry,” Pansy’s voice was gentle. “Draco and I haven’t been together…” She trailed off and glanced at Malfoy, who finally found his voice.

“Potter, I’m gay.” He dropped his eyes to the table. “Pansy was my beard, nothing more.”

“And your friend.” Her voice was sharp.

Malfoy was still studying the table. It was only because the Leaky Cauldron’s tables were best not examined that Harry blurted out the first thing that came into his head.

“I think I’m...” He hadn’t gotten so far as putting words to it yet. Gay wasn’t right. He’d definitely had a thing for Ginny, and Cho. “Not straight. Too. Umm.” He dropped his gaze to his hands, twisting in his lap. “So, you know, I’m not. I’m in no position to throw stones. You can stop looking…” like that. Braced.

A moment later, he felt an impact that he later realized must have been Ron, clapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t hear whatever platitude must have gone along with it because he was already standing and whirling, wand in hand and a ringing in his ears.

It was Malfoy who talked him down this time. He must have shoved his chair back very nearly at the same moment Harry had, and he planted himself in front of Harry’s face before he could cast so much as a protego. 

“Going to start a brawl in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron, Potter?”

Harry responded automatically. “You wish.” He glanced around, breathing carefully. Everything looked normal. No one else had their wand out. Ron was looking apologetic. 

“Sorry, mate. I didn’t think. Thanks for telling us though.”

Harry breathed again, trying to relax. He turned to Malf- Draco. Draco was looking embarrassed.

Harry took another breath. “Thank you, Draco.” He took another breath and offered him a hand, the adrenaline still coursing through him. Part of it was the panic response and part of it was the easy way Malfoy had sneered at him (the way he had sneered back so automatically) and the all-too-fresh memory (still so fresh, even more than a full year on) of the other boy bleeding out at the end of his wand. “You know, my friends call me Harry.”

M- Draco eyed him warily, like he thought Harry might bite him. Harry breathed. He didn’t want that nightmare to ever be a reality again. 

“Please.”

Draco lifted his hand hesitantly, placing it into Harry’s hand like he might bolt if Harry moved wrong. Harry gripped it a little before shaking it, just in case. It was a nice hand, cool, slightly callused. Harry took another breath and told himself that he was only noticing as a way to ground himself after the almost-panic. 

He avoided everyone’s eyes as he sat back down. “So how was everyone’s week?” 

Pansy walked back together with him to relieve Mrs. Weasley. They started talking at the same time. 

“So you’re really OK with me dating your ex?”

“What’s a beard?”

Harry processed a moment later. “Yeah, Ginny and I are definitely better as friends.” He would inquire about how Luna was also involved later, maybe. “What did Draco mean, you were his beard?”

Pansy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shrugged. “You know, he and I are both gay, but since we both knew, we could keep our parents from finding out this way.”

Harry flinched. “But I thought… Andromeda said it wasn’t any worse than being a muggleborn.”

Pansy scuffed a foot along the ground. “I’m not- Harry, think about how Lucius and Narcissa react to- Andromeda Black was literally disowned for dating a muggleborn, remember?”

Harry’s stomach lurched. 

Her voice was soft when she spoke again. “Had you really not even told Weasley and Granger before?”

Harry lifted a shoulder. “I had- Look, I didn’t really mean to tell anyone now. It just kind of slipped out. Malf- Draco- I didn’t want him to-” He took a breath and started again. “I am – something – and I’m not ashamed of it. I just don’t even have the words yet, you know? I’m not straight, but I’m- I dated Ginny. She’s not the only girl I had a crush on. It’s just-” they paused outside the shop, “I- Look, stopping Voldemort, it didn’t leave me a lot of time to- I just-”

“It’s called bi. Or pan, or queer. Your preference. Like Luna. If you’re interested in people, not their gender.” Pansy’s voice was soft, but she wasn’t pitying him. Just giving him information. 

Harry swallowed. “Thanks.” He breathed again. “Hang on, you and Zabini?”

Pansy offered him a crooked smile. “Well Draco had very obviously left me without another thought sixth year. I had to play it like we had really been dating.” She smirked. “He was fine. Less needy than Draco for certain.” 

“Wait,” Harry frowned. “You and Draco had sex? But you said-”

“A lady never kisses and tells.” Pansy looked delighted by a joke Harry couldn’t see. 

“Harry! I’m sorry to rush you dear, but I need to get home to make dinner. George is bringing home a girl tonight.” Mrs. Weasley’s voice hushed at the news. “You’re welcome, of course, dear.” She turned to side-eye Pansy. “And of course,” doubtfully, “Bring anyone you want.”

Pansy swung through the door, cackling. “Come on Harry! Customers!”

Andromeda and Teddy came in five minutes before closing. Harry breathed out a sigh of relief that he’d sent Pansy home. He was going to have to talk to Andromeda again about the Malfoys. Sooner or later, someone was going to mention Teddy to Malfoy, and Draco was going to be upset that Harry hadn’t told him that Teddy was alive. Or worse, he wouldn’t be upset.

Harry took Teddy with a smile that he hoped covered up his inattention.

His heart stopped at the sound of the bell. 

“Harry, I took the liberty of bringing the information myse-” Narcissa stopped in her tracks. “I can talk to you some other time, Harry.”

Harry could see Draco behind her, in the doorway, his eyes on Harry. Teddy shifted and Harry relaxed his hands with an effort. Andromeda had gone stiff and silent. Harry turned to her. “I’m going to go talk to Narcissa and Draco for a moment.” He took another breath. “They’re doing a couple of favors for me.” She stayed silent. “Do you want to take Teddy, or should I take him with me?”

Teddy was the only thing keeping Harry’s shoulders from tensing up towards his ears. He was glancing around like any little thing might set him off, and Harry didn’t want him to start screaming in front of his cousins. 

“Potter, you don’t have to-” Draco’s voice was soft.

Andromeda drew herself up. “What sort of favors are they doing you, Harry? Why are you- How-”

Harry decided that it was better to answer her before she ran out of inoffensive words. “Narcissa offered to find me someone to un-enchant that painting of Mrs. Black.” He prayed that the Malfoys had been telling the truth about it not being dark magic.

“No one is going to come out to Grimmauld Place to do that,” Andromeda dismissed the idea. “How do you know a de-enchanter, anyway, Cissy? Don’t your lot just burn the portraits off the wall so you can listen to the screams?”

“She took it off the wall for me, so that shouldn’t be an issue.” Harry could hear himself getting stubborn. “They even offered to house some of the stuff I don’t want, for now, so that I can have some muggles for lunch there.”

“I’m not Aunt Walburga.” Narcissa’s tone was defensive.

Andromeda sneered at her sister. “Why would you need to invite them to Grimmauld Place, Harry? You know you’re welcome to bring home anyone you like.” 

Harry sighed, shifting Teddy to the other arm to buy himself some time. He couldn’t remember if Narcissa knew that Draco was also friends with the muggles.

Draco spoke from just inside the door. “But I’m also friends with Julian and his aunts, and I doubt he’s welcome to bring me home.” His eyes were fixed on Teddy. 

Harry winced. “Draco, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything about Teddy. I…”

Draco shrugged.

“You’re also friends with what, Draco?” Narcissa was pale. 

Draco lifted his chin. “Even the worst possible muggle aunts would be much better than the man your husband thought would make a pleasant houseguest, mum. And it’s whom.” He swallowed. “Bettina and Susie are very nice, and Julian charmed Pansy and Theo and Blaise Zabini as well as me and Harry.” He turned to Harry, ignoring both angry adults in the room. “Do you think they would be able to have an owl or a cat in London? Most everybody has a pet at school, but I feel like I heard that muggles don’t keep the same sorts of pets as we do.”

Harry breathed again and did his best to pretend that he was equally unaware of Andromeda and Narcissa. He was supposed to be the Gryffindor. His voice echoed a little bit in his ears as he spoke. “They keep cats, but I would check with his aunts before you get Julian a pet. They could be allergic or something.”

Andromeda’s voice sounded far away. “Muggle cats don’t tend to be as clever as our cats either. A muggle cat might be fine at Hogwarts, or it might decide to disappear into the castle and never come back.”

Draco smiled. “That sounds plenty clever to me, when I think of some of my classmates who had cats.”

Harry concentrated on the weight of Teddy in his arms and the smell of yeast and coffee grinds. He was safe here, no matter how angry any of these adults became.

“If- If they are Draco’s friends as well, then you are welcome to host them at the Manor if you like,” Narcissa spoke quickly, like she was trying to get the whole thing out before she changed her mind, “although I understand if you wish to avoid a place that doubtless made a painful impression the first time you visited it.”

Andromeda lifted her chin, clearly unwilling to be outdone by her sister. “You didn’t ask me, Harry. You didn’t even give me the chance to say yes.”

Harry breathed out, bouncing Teddy in his arms, and didn’t bring up the conversation they had had about Draco Malfoy. 

Andromeda blushed anyway, and looked at Draco. “Understand, Draco, that I’ve lost my husband, my daughter, and her husband to your side of the family.”

Harry bit his lip hard.

“I’m not sure that I would have told him to invite you, just because-” she gestured at Teddy.

Draco nodded, and then fumbled in his pocket. “Oh, I keep forgetting to ask Po- Harry. Here it is.” He fished out a letter and laid it on the nearest table. “I wrote you a letter, if you’re willing to read it. I’m sorry about your husband. I’ve never heard anything about him, but he has to have been better than Bellatrix’s husband.” He swallowed. “And I’m sorry about your daughter. The only things I’ve heard about her are from The D- from You-Know-Who, and that’s not right. She was my cousin.” His voice grew thin on the last two words. He wasn’t looking at his mother. “But I know she must have been someone I wish I’d had the chance to know, because Professor Lupin was one of the best teachers we ever had.” He gave a little nod. “And I’m so incredibly sorry that I had anything to do with depriving their son of the chance to grow up knowing them.”

“Draco,” His mother’s voice held a warning.

“Mum,” Draco held firm. “I’m an adult now. That means being responsible, and not just blindly carrying all of Father’s grudges. Anyway, Pansy is dating Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, and I’m not going to stop talking to her over that.” He lifted his chin. “I think it’s high time we start making decisions for ourselves.”

Andromeda stared at him, then stepped around Harry and over to the letter. She waved her wand at it first, twice, and when it refused to emit any lights she picked it up.

Harry bounced Teddy on his hip, hoping the baby was somehow not picking up on the tension in the room. 

Narcissa turned to Harry and held out a business card. Andromeda took it before Harry could reach out, turning it over so she could see. “Preston Glasser? His parents are both muggleborns!”

Narcissa glanced at her son, her cheeks coloring the same way his did. “I am capable of acknowledging a craftsman, Andromeda. He is the best, regardless of- ” she slipped over the last word “-heritage.”

Harry snorted. “Thank you, Narcissa. I appreciate it. Should I mention your name?”

Draco scowled at him. “Come off it, Potter, there’s no need to rub things in our faces.”

Harry blinked. Remembered. “You and Narcissa both helped our side win.” He scowled. “I’m not interested in fighting the war all over again through economics. That’s no way to put it behind us. Look at World War Two!” 

Everyone stared at him, even Teddy. 

Harry took a breath and explained as best he could from half-remembered primary school lessons. “After the muggle First World War, Germany had to pay reparations to so many countries that Hitler was able to rise to power by talking about how unfair that was. The severe reparations led directly to the second war. Obviously, the people like Bellatrix Lestrange need to have something done to them, but,” he gestured at Draco, “you were sixteen years old! I did so many stupid things at sixteen- I used felix felicitus to get information out of Slughorn for Professor Dumbledore. I’m only eighteen now. I bought an entire coffee shop and let Dean Thomas name it after a muggle song. I didn’t even realize until Hermione told me so. I- That’s not-”

Draco snorted. “What was it Bettina said the other night? ‘Now we don’t have time to unpack all that right now…’”

Harry laughed in spite of the weight of the adults anger leaning on the back of his neck. “Exactly. So-” he sighed. “Maybe I’d better consult Blaise Zabini again.”

Draco snorted. “Or you could try the two adults right here.”

Harry glanced at them and then handed Teddy to Andromeda. “Right. I’m locking the door and making us all some tea, and then if you would be willing to offer me some advice, I’m trying to undo at least the damage I’ve done to Slytherin’s reputation.”

He couldn’t help but pause and check the sisters’ expressions. Both were unreadable.

He continued in a rush, before he could think better of it. “My knee-jerk reaction is to tell this guy that I got his information from Narcissa anyway, but Blaise did warn me not to take it too far and end up letting people assume that I’ve been hoodwinked.” Harry waved his wand as he spoke, making Draco’s peppermint tea automatically, and putting together an afternoon tea platter for the sisters with plenty of clotted cream. His pumpkin juice followed the other drinks to the table. He warmed some milk for Teddy and used a handy charm from _Babies and Broomsticks_ to turn a fifth chair into a high chair for Teddy before he sat down. Draco was the next to move, pulling out a seat each for Andromeda and his mother. Andromeda fussed with Teddy in the highchair and pretended not to notice until Narcissa was seated.

Harry breathed out as Draco finally sat across from him and made a funny face at Teddy. He concentrated on relaxing his shoulders and began. “So a couple of weeks ago I realized…”

Harry watched Andromeda and Narcissa stalk in opposite directions down Diagon Alley and turned to Draco. “Thanks for waiting. I owe you an apology.”

Draco frowned. “What for? I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You looked… odd.”

Harry shrugged off the lingering adrenaline. “I’m fine. And I didn’t tell you about Teddy. I’m sorry. I should have. I was going to…”

Draco was still looking at him oddly. 

“Do I have something on my face?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “No, Potter. But- Did Professor Snape traumatize you that bad? Wait, I didn’t- I’m not judging you if he did, I just… You treated them both like bombs about to go off, and I can’t think of any other teachers in school who I watched bully you.”

Harry sighed and leaned back against the side of the building. “So we can’t invite Julian to either house, right? The only thing to do is to use Grimmauld Place after all and snub both sisters equally?”

Draco opened his mouth, then shook his head. “Alright. Well, technically, Andromeda still hasn’t said that you could have me over, so you could use that as an excuse to have them to the manor if you want. But it’s also super understandable if you don’t. Our manor… It’s not-”

Harry looked at him. 

Draco grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. You’ll talk to Granger and Weasley about it, right? As long as you talk to someone…”

Harry shook his head. “They weren’t there. I don’t tend to bring it up.” He bit his lip. “Also Umbridge- I guess you weren’t in Defense with us.” He breathed. “Look, my- I told you I didn’t get along great with my muggle relatives, right? The other day?”

Malfoy frowned and shook his head. “I mean, I always assumed that you didn’t get along great with them – you were in Diagon Alley alone with Hagrid that first time we met, and then our third year there was something about you blowing up your aunt? Father told us. And they didn’t show up to testify for you when you fought off the dementor at the beginning of fifth year. Your Godfather who was on the run from the law came to see you off at the platform but I never saw your- your family there.” 

Harry kept his eyes on his trainers. He could practically see the look on Draco’s face anyway. 

Sure enough, the next words out of his mouth were apologetic. “Were they… Look, I’m probably the last person you want to talk to about all this.”

Harry’s eyes flicked up. Draco was studying the hem of his robe.

“I was an asshole to you about them for years.”

“You were an asshole to me about my dead parents,” Harry corrected. “And my Godfather who was on the run from the law.” He breathed. “You didn’t know enough to be an asshole about my relatives.” 

He scuffed a foot on the ground and considered his next words. 

“I used to joke that they would be disappointed when they found out that I’d lived through another school year.”

He watched Draco swallow. 

“I never tried to avoid making them angry, because that was pointless, but it was never worth it to make them angry. They would starve me, hit me, lock me in my cupboard for a week…”

“In your _what_?” 

Harry glanced at Draco’s face from under his eyelashes and watched Draco flinch and try again, less angry.

“Did you say they locked you in ‘your cupboard’?”

Harry looked at Malfoy for a moment, and let the panic of seven years of fighting course through him. Then he breathed and lifted his chin to look Draco in the eye. He’d done nothing but prove he was changing all summer – had changed – and Harry didn’t lie to his friends. 

“Yeah, I did. They gave me a bedroom just after I got my Hogwarts letter. Before that I slept in the cupboard under the stairs. It’s not like it was a kitchen cupboard, or- .”

“Did they move? Or expand the house – can muggles expand a house that’s already built?” Ma- Draco’s voice was tight.

Harry shook his head. “No. I mean, they can, but it wasn’t- they moved me into my cousin Dudley’s second bedroom after my Hogwarts letter came addressed to ‘The Cupboard under the Stair’ and they freaked out about – I dunno – Wizarding Child Services? Is there a Wizarding Child Services?”

Draco shook his head. “That’s- Po- Harry,” he met Harry’s eye, “That’s barbaric. You know that, right? I- Did they ever treat you like they were happy to have you around?”

Harry blinked at Draco. “Does this – Does it really matter? They were awful people, but it’s over now. I just- Sometimes I get, like,” breath, “uncomfortable, when adults are angry around me, even though it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Draco’s mouth was set. “That’s not OK. They never should have treated you like that.” He sighed. “I guess I can understand you not saying anything, but how- I thought the Headmaster and you- Couldn’t Dumbledore do- Didn’t he know?”

Harry dropped his eyes and shrugged. “I mean- I assume he did. It’s OK. I could handle it.”

Draco crowded into his space until Harry met his eyes again. “You’re an idiot, Potter.” His voice was low and angry. “If Julian proved he could take it, would you think that made it OK for him to be treated like that?”

Harry felt his shoulders straighten.

Draco stepped back, now that he had Harry’s attention. 

“Do you think- Bettina and Susie didn’t seem- If you saw something we need to get him out of the- Why are you laughing?”

Draco wiped his eyes. “No, you’re right, it’s not really funny, is it? Julian is fine, I have no reason to suspect- But do you see what I mean now?” He blew out a breath and raised his hand again so Harry couldn’t see his face. “You were just a kid.” 

Harry leaned against the brick wall until it dug into his back and nodded.

Draco hovered awkwardly. 

“You’re right,” Harry admitted, his voice quiet, and then changed the subject. “How long do you think it takes Ginny to bring Pansy home for dinner and create a real scene at the Weasleys?”

Draco snorted. “Pansy said Ginny’s been talking about it. She doesn’t want to push the family though. They just lost a brother, and Pansy-”

Harry nodded. “Well if she lets me know I’ll make sure to be there that night. I can bring Teddy if she wants, distract them…”

“Well,” Draco looked uncomfortable still, “You should make sure to tell her that. I should get home before Mum starts worrying.”

Harry watched Draco walk away until the night swallowed him up.

The lunch rush was slowing down when Harry heard an unctuous voice. “So this is where you’ve hidden yourself away, Harry. Merlin’s Beard! I’d heard the rumors, but- You really hired Parkinson?”

Harry balled his fists behind the counter and reminded himself that Ernie had fought in the battle of Hogwarts too. 

“Harry? Do we have more tea strainers?” Pansy turned to meet Harry’s eye. He flustered. 

“Oh, yeah, maybe in the- I can-” He didn’t want to leave Pansy to be condescended to by Ernie. “Ok, if you go back in the storage area and you turn to your left there’s three sets of shelves. Two of them have boxes of mugs on the bottom shelf and behind the left one – ”

“Just go, Harry, I’ll be half an hour looking.” Pansy gave him a wry look. “I can handle the counter for five minutes on my own.”

Harry hesitated, then nodded and then touched her shoulder as he ducked past her to go in the back room. Maybe if Ernie saw that they were friendly it would help?

He walked back in to find Ernie leaning over the counter into Pansy’s space.

“I don’t know how you’ve hoodwinked him into this, but mark my words, Parkinson, people care about Harry. We all know that you already tried to get rid of him once.”

Shoes slapped on the floor and Harry looked up to find Julian and his aunts entering. Julian was already rushing over to defend Pansy.

Harry got there first. “Get out!”

“Harry,” Pansy turned. “It’s not- You can’t- You shouldn’t stand up for me like that.”

Harry snarled – at Ernie, not Pansy. “I don’t tolerate people harassing my employees. If you objected to being served by her you have all of Diagon Alley.”

“Harry.” Pansy snatched the tea ball from his hand, annoyed. “You’d have said the same at the beginning of this summer.”

Harry’s shoulders tensed. “As I recall, at the beginning of this summer what I said was ‘come in, let’s try this again.’ But if that’s what you think of me-”

“Merlin save me from over-dramatic idiots.” She turned and stabbed her wand at the tea leaves. “When you’re done being hurt, you’ll remember that the beginning of the summer was June and you couldn’t even look at me at Draco’s trial. Macmillan doesn’t have the context that you do.”

“Is the wizarding world racist?” Julian had appeared by the end of the counter, looking serious. “I thought maybe they wouldn’t be, since you’re,” he paused and gestured. 

“You know,”

“Not white?” Pansy offered, giving him a smile as she served the next customer in the line that had grown behind Ernie.

“Yeah, and that black kid made it sound like the whole world thinks of you as Frodo or something…”

“If Potter is Frodo then Pansy is Gollum,” Draco had appeared behind Julian. Apparently they had regressed to surnames. 

“I don’t know what you just called me, Draco, but that won’t stop me from getting back at you somehow.”

Harry bared his teeth in a grimacing smile at Ernie. “I wasn’t aware that I needed to check in with the rest of the wizarding world for permission before I made friends, but Pansy and Draco and I are burying the hatchet.” He relaxed his jaw with an effort. “I’m tired of fighting the war. It’s over. Let’s keep it that way.”

Ernie studied him. “But… I- Malfoy? You two never got along. That wasn’t something new when the war started. And Parkinson tried to hand you over to You-Know-Who!” 

Harry didn’t look at Julian. “And we’re putting that all behind us. I did stupid things last year too. And when do you think the war started, anyway?”

Draco snorted. “P- Harry. You think everyone started fighting the war at the same time that we did? You were the Boy-Who-Lived and I was a Death Eater’s son.”

“Exactly!” Ernie gestured at him. “You can understand how it might be something of a shock for me!”

“Ernie,” Susan Bones appeared beside him, her mouth set in a way that reminded Harry of her great-aunt. He had no idea how long she had been listening. “Do you remember in our fifth year, when Granger invited us to join the DA and Justin asked if you really thought Voldemort was back?” 

Ernie was turning red.

“Do you remember what you said?”

Ernie’s ears flushed. “I believed it when people said he was the Heir of Slytherin and I was wrong; I’m not going to do that again?”

“Exactly.” Her arms crossed. 

Harry caught Pansy’s eye at the other end of the counter and smirked.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Susan Bones met his eye, then turned to include Pansy in her apology. “Parkinson. Sometimes we don’t think about it when we bring him places. I honestly didn’t think it was going to be an issue.” She turned to include Malfoy as well. “I grew up in a household that was still fighting the war over too. I’m glad you lot are putting an end to that.” She gave a sharp nod. “Harry, Parkinson, can we eat here if the rest of us sit on Ernie or would you prefer we go somewhere else?”

Pansy waved a hand. “Be my guest. I’m not going to refuse to take your money, and neither will Harry if he knows what’s good for him.”

To Harry’s surprise Susan smiled back. “It’s a good thing you’re keeping him in line, Parkinson.”

Pansy blinked, then shrugged. “Well, my other one,” she gestured at Draco, “broke me in. They’re both big dramatic idiots.” 

Harry swallowed, touched, and managed, “Well, Pansy has spoken. But if he can’t treat her civilly I’m kicking him out.”

He turned to Julian and his aunts. “So I was thinking that we could maybe do lunch on a weekday sometime?”

Theodore Nott walked into the café two days later during the afternoon slump and swooned dramatically into a chair. 

A moment later he sat up. “I saw the oddest thing just now.”

Pansy had disappeared out back with Ginny on her break. Harry considered his options. “Oh?”

Nott nodded at him affably. “The oddest thing. You see, I saw death today. No, put your wand away, Potter,” Harry would be unnerved later about the fond tone Nott said that in, “not literally. Just your garden variety Diagon Alley mob.”

Harry glanced out the window. “That’s the odd thing, is it? And I don’t need my wand?”

“Susan Bones is the oddest thing. She stepped out in front of that mob – I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to her, except perhaps when we were five when I deliberately poured my grape juice on someone’s white robes. They might have been hers – but she stood in between me and the good shopkeepers of Diagon Alley and dared to tell them that the war was over.”

Harry blinked, still processing. He still didn’t know how to take Nott. He’d never paid attention to the other man in school. Maybe he’d been able to see thestrals? That was the only thing he knew about him.

Blaise Zabini walked in and closed the door gently behind him. “Did Theo order for us yet?”

Harry shook his head automatically. “He’s been telling me about his day.”

Zabini’s smile showed teeth. “Well that’s terrifyingly domestic.”

“You aren’t even a little bit weirded out by Bones’s behavior?” Theo crossed his arms and glared up at Zabini.

Zabini shrugged. “Even Potter is only one person. But he’s got allies, Theo. The Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs, the Quidditch players, a handful of Ravenclaws…”

“Draco Malfoy,” Theo agreed, like Zabini was making any sort of sense. “Of course you expected it.”

Harry let the book he’d been glancing through drop onto the table. “I have,” he folded his arms across his chest, “friends.”

Zabini smiled at him fondly. 

Harry hated him preemptively, before he even opened his mouth.

“Very close with Colin Creevey were you, Potter? Bosom buddies? You told him all your darkest and wildest secrets, did you?”

“Now look what you’ve done,” Nott was reproachful. “He was smiling.”

“I didn’t call them ‘groupies’, Potter. I’m not talking about Weasley and Granger, I’m talking about the people you barely know who follow you where you lead them.” Zabini’s voice was sharp.

“You included Draco in that list.” Harry unclenched his hands, one fist at a time. “He’s a friend.” And as weird as the idea of Draco as an ally was, it was even weirder to hear- “He’s certainly never been a groupie.” A breath. “No more than Susan Bones, or Hannah Abbott, or Michael Corner. No more than Neville.”

Zabini and Nott exchanged a glance. 

“Alright, Potter.” Zabini was humoring him. “Maybe you’re right. All that I’m saying is that a month ago Hannah Abbott nearly refused to serve us over at the Leaky Cauldron, but yesterday she was this close to kicking someone out for calling Tracy Davis-” he hesitated. “Unpleasant names.”

“Merlin help us all, we’ve got the Hufflepuffs on our side now?” Pansy was smiling as she walked in. All three of them threw her a dirty look. 

“Whilst you’ve been out necking with your girlfriends, Theo and I have had to deal with your adopted friend ourselves.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and held the door for Ginny and Luna to follow her in. “And he’s had to deal with yourselves, which I can tell you from experience isn’t always a treat either. Ginny, Luna, you guys know Blaise and Theo?”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed, but Luna smiled across the room. “Blaise! It’s been a while.” She walked across and held out a hand to Nott. “Theodore. Blaise talked about you a lot.”

“Ad nauseum was the phrase Rolf used when he met me,” Nott smiled at her. 

She was still studying him. “You look happier, now that you’re away from Hogwarts.”

Harry observed with some amusement as Nott blushed. 

Pansy approached him that weekend. “Ginny wants to have me over for Sunday dinner tomorrow.” She dropped her gaze. 

“Well I’ll be there, and Luna and Ginny and Ron’s getting used to you. Hermione likes you at least as well as she does Luna. You’ll be fine. The Weasleys are nice! No one’s going to eat you.” 

Pansy shrugged and didn’t lift her gaze. Her voice was quiet. “I hate to be the center of a scene.” 

Harry bit his lip. “Ginny’s telling them ahead of time, right? Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t- ” He cut himself off. He didn’t want to think- But they hadn’t loved Fleur, and Pansy would notice if they treated her that way. He bit his lip. “I’ll come up with something to get the attention off of you.” Luckily other people he knew were perfectly happy to cause a scene. 

He sent the letter on his lunch break and had his answer before they locked up that night. “Don’t worry Pansy, I’ve got it under control. Just let me know what time you’re getting there.”

Pansy gave him an unimpressed look, but nodded. “Hermione wasn’t kidding about that saving people thing, was she?”

Harry flushed. 

He shifted his shoulders in his robes and watched through the window as the fireplace filled with green light and Pansy stepped out. Arthur stepped forward with a hand out and Harry glanced to his side. “Are you sure about this?”

Draco pulled a face. “Are you sure? They’re practically family. I understand if you don’t want to-”

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “Mrs. Weasley told me I could bring anyone I liked. I’m pretty sure you fall into that category. But only if you’re- They aren’t going to be mad at me. I mean! They won’t all be mad at-”

“Breathe, Potter.” He took a breath. “Harry. I knew what I was getting into when I said yes. And I owe Pansy. But you have to know that even if she said to bring anyone, she meant a girlfriend. I’m not that.”

“You’re a friend.” Harry set his jaw. “A good one, weirdly enough.” He jerked his shoulders in a quick tight shrug and started walking down the lane. “As long as you’re sure.”

Draco glanced sideways as he caught up. “Thank you. You’re a good friend too, to Pansy. You orchestrated this whole thing.” 

Harry snorted. “Don’t thank me yet.” He stepped up to the door and glanced at Draco. “Are you ready?”

Draco turned and smiled at him, his eyes crinkling up. “Merlin. Yes, Harry, I am.”

Harry turned the knob. 

“And will you be going back to Hogwarts in the fall?” Mr. Weasley was giving Pansy the third degree. 

There was a half-hissed whisper in the kitchen. “Of course I support you having as many partners as you want, but a Slytherin?!”

Ginny’s voice was louder. “Mum, she’s-”

Harry burst into the kitchen before she could start a fight while Pansy was there. “Mrs. Weasley, Ginny!” He could feel Draco’s presence behind his shoulder. “I hope it’s OK, I brought a friend.” He stepped to the side to allow Draco into the room. “Draco, you know Ginny and Mrs. Weasley.” 

Draco settled next to Mr. Weasley at the table while Harry and Luna flanked Pansy. Mrs. Weasley sat across from Draco and glared across the table. Bill and Fleur were across from Pansy and making polite conversation already.

Harry hadn’t seen this look on George’s face in ages. 

George started it, eyes twinkling. “So, Malfoy, I’ve been hearing rumors about you from the other shopkeepers. Been spending an unusual amount of time in Diagon Alley recently, haven’t you?”

Harry opened his mouth, but Draco was already there. “I don’t know if you’d heard, but my best friend has been working there all summer. And Harry and I have been working on being friendly. Do you think I usually spend the entire summer not seeing anyone? I’m not going to avoid anyone just because it means going into Diagon Alley.”

Harry jumped in as soon as Draco stopped talking, irrationally angry. He wasn’t sure why he’d been so certain George would be on their side. “Draco’s my friend, George. He has an open invitation to the shop.”

George turned to look at him and two elbows from opposite sides dug into Harry’s ribs. 

“He’s being practically friendly, Harry.” Draco’s voice was flat, but when Harry turned to look there was a smile lurking around the corner of his mouth.

Harry flushed and glanced at George. George was looking pitying. “Oh, no, you too? Harry.”

“What?” 

George shook his head. “Harry, Harry, Harry.”

“What?”

Pansy patted Harry’s shoulder. “Nothing. Don’t worry your pretty head, Harry.” 

Harry set his jaw and watched as Mrs. Weasley shared a commiserating glance with Pansy. That was good. 

“So, Draco,” George’s voice was peppy again. “What’s your Quidditch team? Have you seen the Harpies this season?”

Percy caught Harry as they were moving into the living room. “Good on you, bringing your boyfriend. I’ve been with Oliver three years and I still chickened out of telling them. You guys are brand new too, aren’t you?”

Harry flushed. “We aren’t- I mean, I haven’t- Wait, Oliver Wood?” He turned to face Percy properly and barely remembered to lower his voice. “You and Oliver Wood? Good for you, Percy.” He never knew what the appropriate gesture was here… Ron had clapped him on the shoulder the other day. He gripped Percy’s arm for a moment. “Good for you. I’m sure they’d all be happy for you. And if they aren’t, let me know. I think Draco’s having a good time.” He glanced into the living room where Draco had finished a spirited argument about the Tornadoes and was now pumping Mr. Weasley for information on pens and the muggle mail system. “He’d probably agree to come again.”

The door to the Weasley’s shut behind them and Harry smiled at Draco. “Thanks for coming on such short notice. I’m sure Pansy appreciated having you here.” He glanced up at the pitch-black sky and frowned, remembering. “How’s Goyle? Is he, umm…”

Draco turned to look at him and smiled. It took Harry a moment to stop watching his lips and start listening. “He’s doing better. Thank you for asking after him. It’s… He didn’t have a lot of friends outside me and Vince. It’s been rough. Blaise suggested this muggle thing though, where they, like, sit and talk to someone? And Greg found a Squib who does it, so he can actually talk about it. It’s helping. He’s not, like, back to normal. He might never be. But I can go out at night as long as his mum is there or his cousin.” He swallowed. “And no need to thank me, Potter, I had a good time.” 

“Harry.” Harry’s eyes flicked up to meet Draco’s gaze. “You know my name is Harry.”

There was something resigned about Draco’s face. “Harry.”

Harry frowned. “Unless you don’t want-”

“NO! No, I’m,” Draco cleared his throat. “I’m perfectly happy being friends with you. And,” he sounded more normal now, “I’ll have you know that I was right about their expectations, I got talks about being a good boyfriend to you from three brothers and Granger. Hermione.” The smile looked real enough until Draco turned and it slid off his face. 

Harry reached and touched Draco’s arm, stopping under a tree just before the end of the lane. “Draco. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Draco turned back and blinked at him. Then shook his head. “I- Harry, please, let me keep what little dignity I have left.”

Harry took a breath and reminded himself that Draco didn’t owe him anything. Quite the opposite, in fact. “Whatever you want. But Draco? If you ever do want to talk, I’m here. I admitted to my awful childhood. It can’t be more embarrassing than that. And I owe you.”

Draco gave him a crooked smile. “You really do believe that, don’t you? You are so weird, Potter. Harry.” He ducked his head and admitted to the ground, “It’s nothing new. I promise, I’m fine. Thank you for worrying. About me and about Greg.”

Harry was still opening his mouth to respond when Draco turned, stepped off the property, and apparated away. 

They didn’t see one another again until Wednesday, when they met Julian and his aunts in Grimmauld Place. Harry did his best to smile at Julian while checking Draco over unobtrusively for signs of the other night’s melancholy. He seemed in a much better mood this afternoon, and caught Harry’s eye and smirked when Harry stared a little too long. Harry blushed. 

“This is my godfather’s old house. Draco’s cousin. It’s not very safe, but I’ve had a team in working through to get it to the point where I can sell it, and it should be safe enough for us, at least at the ground floor.” Harry met the aunts’ eyes. “Don’t disappear without me or Draco. The house isn’t friendly.”

Bettina’s voice was wry. “I gather that you’re not talking about dry rot and dark wood paneling with no windows and dim lights.”

Draco snorted. “My family have held an anti-muggle stance for a very long time. There may be things in there that are specifically set off by you.” He pulled his mouth to one side. “They were lovely people, I’m sure.”

“And your Godfather, Harry?” Susie frowned. “How common is it, prejudice against Muggles? Will Julian run into trouble because of us?”

Draco squared his shoulders, but Harry cut in before he could answer. “My Godfather went against his family. And we just finished a war about the rights of muggleborns. We won.”

“There will still be some people whose parents taught them that muggleborns are lesser, but I doubt any of them will be bold enough to say so.”

Harry held the door open for them and pointed at the entrance to the kitchen. “My best friend is a muggleborn. Even if there are a few assholes, there will be plenty more who aren’t.” Harry’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been owling with the headmistress. We’re trying to figure out ways to make the kids safer. I nearly killed-” he glanced at Draco, who shook his head and continued, “somebody, when I was there, and I’d have really missed out if I did. I’m not even the only one. So Professor McGonagall and I are working on student safety protocols. We’ve collected a bunch of specialists who are putting in wards like I have in the café, and she wrote up a bunch of anti-bullying lesson plans that the Heads of Houses are going to administer.”

He glanced up and caught Draco watching him with a smile on his face. “You just keep on surprising me.”

Harry ducked his head. “Because I’ve matured enough to recognize that I was in the wrong once? How little you must think of me, Draco.” He smiled ruefully. “I am trying.”

“No, I-” Draco bit his lip. “You’d have really missed out on what, exactly? And don’t spout that bit about how I saved your life in the war. You saved mine too, Potter, and I put in dang- Dumbledore is dead because of me!”

Harry flinched but held Draco’s gaze. “You couldn’t kill him. I was there that night. Snape killed Dumbledore, not you. And your parents were being threatened. And I wasn’t talking about that.” Harry bit his lip. He hadn’t even been thinking about that, all the baggage they carried. “I was just thinking of this summer. You and Pansy’s friendship. I- I’d have missed out so bad, Malfoy.” He watched Draco’s face. “It frightens me a little, how much you two matter to me so fast, after all those years of hating each other.” 

Harry was vaguely aware of Bettina, Susie, and Julian watching them avidly. 

“I’ve told you things this summer that I’ve never told anyone, Draco. Do you think I’d suddenly have told Ron and Hermione about my- my aunt and uncle? After all these years of not, of insisting it’s over and done with and I could handle it, so it was fine?”

“Ron’s oldest brother has scars on his face from a werewolf that I let into the school, Potter. You can’t just erase that.”

Harry crossed his arms. “You have scars on your chest from a curse I threw at you. There’s no way you don’t. But you seem to look past that OK.”

A loud clapping noise made them both jump. “Sorry to bother you,” Bettina did not look sorry. “But I suspect that you don’t want to have this argument with an audience.”

Harry flushed. “I’m so sorry. Let me go find Kreacher. We can get started making lunch. Draco, you know where the drinks we got are. Do you want to get them set up with something to drink?”

Harry stood in the hallway for a long minute, next to where Narcissa had taken down the portrait of Mrs. Black. The dim entryway lights had been replaced by the contractors she had recommended and the space where the troll leg used to be held a plastic umbrella bin since Draco had helped him take it to Borgin and Burkes the previous weekend. 

Harry and Draco waved Julian and his aunts off and Draco started to descend the steps as well. 

“What, you’re going to leave all the clean-up to me?” Harry did his best to keep his tone light. “Just like a Slytherin.”

“That’s what House Elves are for, Potter.” Draco’s cheeks colored, but he stepped back up beside Harry. “What did you have in mind?”

“Come in for a cuppa? It’s hours ‘til dark. Goyle won’t be looking for you yet, will he?” Harry studied Draco’s face hopefully. 

Draco sighed. “Alright. You don’t need to light up about it like that. Can’t you just be a little bit less likeable sometimes, Potter?”

Harry ducked his head and tried to keep the hurt out of his voice as he held the door for Draco to come back inside. “I didn’t realize it was such a burden for you, Malfoy.”

Draco stepped in past him and continued towards the kitchen. “I’m going to need a drink for this. Kreacher! Do you have a good scotch in this house?”

Harry caught up with them in the study. Draco was staring into a glass of some strange bubbling alcohol and Kreacher was pouring a second glass Harry assumed was for him. He took it dubiously. 

Draco tipped his head back and drained the glass and looked at Harry as Kreacher refilled it. “I’ve had a crush on you since fourth year Potter. Maybe earlier, but the Quidditch World Cup was the first time I noticed it and couldn’t write it off as something else. Pansy used to laugh herself sick. When she told you Andromeda wasn’t the only person I used to love stories about, growing up? I used to ask for stories about The-Boy-Who-Lived. I was so excited when father told me to make friends with you – I wasn’t an idiot, I knew it could have gone the other way, but he thought maybe you would be the next Dark Lord or something.” Draco picked up the refilled glass and sipped it, staring at the empty fireplace. “I’m sorry, I know this must be awkward for you. I don’t mean to- I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t going to say anything, but you keep asking, or getting sad when I call you Potter-” He turned to face Harry for the first time since Harry had entered the room. “I’m trying to give myself boundaries, Potter. If I call you Harry I’m going to forget all of my wry perspective and start thinking I actually have a shot with you.”

Harry breathed out. “Look, Draco, I told you to call me Harry. I meant it.” A distant part of his mind panicked. He took another breath. “I shoved all that stuff to the side. School, and the war... I d- I haven’t thought about- I haven’t let myself think about crushes, OK. I don’t even know right now, who I’ve had a crush on. What a crush feels like. But I used to think about you and what you were up to when I was supposed to be spending time with Ginny. When you weren’t playing Quidditch I practically abandoned my team, even though I was the captain that year.” He took another careful breath. “I’ve been lying to myself for a long time about you. I don’t know if I can claim the same length for my crush – I only started noticing it after the day you ran into Andromeda – but I know I’ve had interventions from Ron and Hermione about my obsession with you. Several times over the years, but most notably in Sixth year.”

Draco set his glass to the side and looked up at Harry. “Are you sure? Harry,” Harry stepped over towards him and the chair Draco was sitting in snapped shut with a slurping noise. There were a handful of tense seconds as Harry tugged at the back of the chair before it reluctantly gaped open again and released Draco, who stumbled upright no worse for the wear save a little rug burn on one cheek. 

Harry reached out to touch it tenderly. “Come to the kitchen. I’ve got something we can put on that. I didn’t even brew it.”

“It’s not that bad! Po- Harry! It doesn’t even hurt.” 

“And if we put something on it now, it won’t get the chance to hurt later either.”

“You could always kiss it better.”

“It was my chair that did it, at least let me- What?”

“I said,” Draco’s ears were pink. “That you could always kiss it better. If you’re so worried.”

Harry hesitated. 

“Or you don’t have to. The potion is fine. Maybe I misunderstood-”

“No, that’s not- You want me to kiss it better, Draco? You’d like that?”

Harry watched Draco erect the tattered shreds of his dignity around himself. “What then?” Draco’s mouth curled in a slow smirk. “Are you scared, Potter?”

Harry opened his mouth to admit that he was, just a little. Instead he leaned forward, bringing a hand up to Draco’s unhurt cheek. He brushed his lips across the rug burn and then caught Draco’s mouth with his. He pulled back a moment later and smiled slow over at the Slytherin. 

“You wish.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. If any of my readers from other fandoms made it here, know that I still have 1-2 Yuri on Ice fics in my drafts and 2-3 Good Omens fics there as well. I also have several fics in the works for my newest fandom, MDZS, that might come out first, but I swear those fics are still coming. There's also a Sherlock fic, though I haven't been in fandom for 3 years now, but I can't leave an unfinished work alone, and I participated in Fandom Trumps Hate, so I'll have two more Harry Potter fics out sometime this year. 
> 
> I was going to continue this into the fall and decide which house Julian was going to be in and have him write to Harry about his adventures or have his Aunts check in with Harry and tell him about them, but I was already almost five times the length I expected this fic to be and it needed to get out of my drafts, plus I couldn't decide which house Julian should be in. Harry was also supposed to have a better conversation with Draco about their feelings, but he insisted on saying "You wish" and I couldn't not end it there. 
> 
> Also, I had the most fun with Draco's unrequited crush that he's just resigned to having and being teased about for the rest of his life, so I hope you all enjoy it too.


End file.
